#plum dente

[sammydem0n64]

And next we have Team Adult! The most you guys are getting for pride month is Frost being bisexual now.

[thisbibliomaniac]

Of course I have no income when all of the fall teas are out 😌

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various ! pt two

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: boothill, aventurine

side comments: my first voice line fic was well received and for that I thank you all <3 so of course this is for all my boothill and aventurine lovers out there! (including myself for boothill...)

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, I genuinely loved writing boothill's, minor spoilers for both favourites: boothill word count: roughly 1000+

care to see the first part? includes dr. ratio, jing yuan, & blade!

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

WHO ARE THEY? I "Out here askin' question huh? Well if you're that curious... then you better listen close."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Met them on a bullet train in a neighbouring star system. Turns out we were chasing after the same fudge-heads. You could've seen them- a sly creature that's who they were, whipping out the most slick sniper I've ever seen. I'd reckon that was one of the most thrilling fights I've ever had: came out with dents all over my arms and a broken gun. Their bullets nearly punched a hole through my cheek... hah!"

GREETINGS? "They may be a load of dormant gunpowder, but they sure are sweet! Full of laughter and courtesy. But I'll let you in on a little secret... ( Name ) likes to walk in, pretty as always- and plant kisses all over my cheek before they even say a word."

PARTINGS? "Being a Galaxy Ranger means never staying in one place. ( Name ) is no Galaxy Ranger... I'd reckon it's better that way."

ABOUT US: SHOES IN THE HOUSE "I can't exactly 'take off my shoes' now can I? But ( Name ) likes to keep the house tidy and I best not anger them... like that one time- anyways, we came up with this whole fudging system just to keep the bottom of my damn boots clean! It's fudging ridiculous! *Chuckles* I can't help it, but ( Name ) is understanding. Even if I trudged through all the grime in the universe- they'd still wipe it all off."

ABOUT US: FAMILY "You see, ( Name ) has this big family. Siblings, cousins, extended cousins, aunts and uncles, you name it. We were on their home planet once, and I finally understood where ( Name's ) knack for puttin' a real good home together came from. Their family lives in the countryside where all you can see are open fields, lush hillsides, free-roaming animals and wildflowers. Consider it a quiet paradise. They even grow their own food for fudging sake! Everythin' made by hand and land. Darlin' nearly coaxed me into joining them for dinner once, but I knew better. Best not spoil the family get-together."

CHAT: HATS N' POSES "Personally, I like my hat and flare the way it damn is. How would fightin' be without it? But of course, your partner has to be a cheeky tease about it."

CHAT: WARMTH " I've seen it in the movies- those fudging 'romcoms'- and read it in books. When it gets cold... I'm no help. Can't do much except reach for a blanket and wrap them up. But even then, metal and skin don't fudging work."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Count me in on a dance sugar plum! Have to admit, darlin' has a fair share of good dance moves. Nothin' like a hard-earned victory being celebrated with a cool glass of whisky and a smooth dance."

ARGUMENTS: "Bitter things that's all they are. Leaves you knocked out cold. Reminds you of all the things you can't take back."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Following the hunt ain't an easy task. But someone has to punish the wretched. That's the thing about the hunt- you get cold, hard. Sugar follows another path that doesn't make any fudging sense to me. But that doesn't matter. None of that ever mattered, not to them, not to me or even the hunt. Call it selfish, but I'd like to one day settle down... Just like their family. Out where no one could find us."

WHO ARE THEY? II "They call me their 'sweet lover'. But really it should be me saying that. If anything I am the sweat of their brow- a nuisance at times. But they still love me. They still fudging love me."

EXTRA: IPC ENTRY "Normally, Galaxy Rangers travel alone. However, we have seen the wanted Galaxy ranger- Boothill- be accompanied by someone who appears to be a vagabond follower of Xipe. Despite the information we possess, the relationship between Boothill and his supposed 'partner' is very limited."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Fancy meeting you here- oh? A rumor you say? Rumours do have peculiar ways of reaching the ears..."

FIRST MEETINGS? "All business ventures possess their gains and losses. However, I did not expect my pockets- alongside others- to be picked on a night meant to celebrate the Strategic Investment Department. The person who did it played their cards exceptionally well. I applauded them and the subtlety of their skills."

GREETINGS? "Despite their rather cunning nature, ( Name ) is quite kind... shockingly so. I thought their smile was a chip they played for their own meticulous advantage. *Chuckles* I was wrong, there was simply nothing to understand behind that smile."

PARTINGS? "One transaction after another, the universe keeps spinning. Don't keep up, you fall behind. Simple. I don't have to worry about that around them, or at least, for a while, until another wager must be made. Until the peck on the cheek is over."

ABOUT US: LOCKET "( Name ) has a keen eye for trinkets and bought- well stole- a locket for the two of us to share. I keep it with me, a lucky charm if you may."

ABOUT US: NAPPING "Personally, I don't nap. But, ( Name ) is a terrible influence and says I should. I must admit, waking up to them in the afternoon is not a bad way to spend my time."

CHAT: THEVERY "( Name ) is a thief... a good one at that. Oh don't worry, they struck a deal with the IPC. Primarily on their terms because they have been such a nuisance to the IPC. It's rather amusing seeing the IPC chase their own tail. We've definitely shared laughs over it."

CHAT: CONFESSIONS "Who could possibly love something so broken? It's like keeping a clock that won't tick or a deck of cards missing a queen. Sometimes, I wish they didn't care so much. It would be... easier."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Of course, a good game of cards is a fun way to pass the time. *Chuckles* Though, ( Name ) is a terrible player. Not that I mind, I'll guess I'll play the role of 'loser' this time around- best you not tell them."

ARGUMENTS: "What else is there to say? Nothing. That part is the worst."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: HEART OF GOLD "( Name ) steals to give to the poor. It's their motto... I saw them once with a group of kids on a planet in a distant star system. They were giving back to the orphanage- the smiles on the children's faces when given toys, marbles to be exact, were so bright."

WHO ARE THEY? II "In all honesty, I'm not quite sure. However, what I do know is that luck finally worked in my favour... I'll hold onto that for as long as I can."

EXTRA: DR RATIO'S OPINION "The gambler- without hesitation- will bet 'all in' even if it means his own life hangs in the balance. However, amongst the chaos of his bets, there is one person who will drag him back to reality... ( Name ). Aventurine will never gamble nor forfeit the one person who truly understands him. Even I don't fully understand the gambler's crafty nature. I suppose a thief is the only one who can and more importantly, will."

masterlist.

[claraswritings]

I saw a tiktok of a man who was a chef and made his wife a recipe each week with whatever food the baby was the size of.

that’s so Luca but desserts because he’s a pastry chef

S C R E A M I N G. That is Luca for real 😭.

This was meant to be a blurb but became a full fic.

Pairing: Chef Luca x Reader

Warnings: pregnancy, pure absolute fluff, probable inaccurate food choices- if you can’t eat any of these whilst pregnant, pretend you can. Luca would not make you sick. I am just an idiot. I used a mix of results on google for the size and they all say different things so might not be 100% accurate.

ALSO The baby is a girl because Luca gives me girl dad energy. He’d want all girls. Actually he’d PREFER girls because he is a massive green flag. Fight me.

“Luca babe, the baby is the size of a blueberry!” You showed him the app on your phone. “Isn’t that cute!”

This app had become your obsession. You’d found out you were pregnant at 4 weeks (poppy seed) and made an occasion out of it. Each week you’d open the app and tell Luca how big your little baby was. You’d always hold the app with the picture over your stomach and coo at it.

He found it adorable how excited you’d get and how you’d call the baby little proceeded by whichever seed or fruit it was this week.

“That’s adorable, my love.” Luca responded and kissed you, kissed your stomach. “Our baby blueberry”

***

At work it was all he could think about, his baby, a little blueberry in your womb and before he knew it, he’d drawn up a new dessert and was packing it up. This wasn’t for the menu or for noma. This was all for you and his little baby blueberry.

He presented it to you when he arrived home that afternoon, grinning proudly.

“Blueberry tart with vanilla cream,blueberry sorbet and wild water mint. For my blueberry”

You’d of course cried as the baby hormones were playing havoc with your emotions. Luca, your darling, sweet, perfect Luca had instantly panicked and worried he’d set off your sickness and was at your side asking if it was the taste or the smell or something and offering to go out and get you anything you needed.

You’d sobbed and clung to him and when the tears had subsided, you’d told him it was the sweetest thing and you loved it.

He’d even smeared the cream into a heart and walked back from noma rather than risk it getting dented in the car or on a bus or train, which set you off again.

How could he be so perfect, so doting, so affectionate and so yours.

Luca had kissed you, grinned at how adorable your tears were and insisted he fed it to you on the deck of the boat under the stars.

****

The next week, the little blueberry had become a little raspberry and Luca brought home a whole batch of raspberry danishes. A classic pastry staple but you’d loved it all the same.

It was followed a grape syrup mousse for week nine which Luca spoon fed you in bed. A sticky date pudding when the tenth week rolled around. Week eleven was a lime pandan cake and for your twelve week scan when the baby had reached the size of a plum, Luca spent hours creating a spiced plum clafoutis, which he closed down the restaurant early to present to you.

Each dessert was so lovingly made and Luca began to love the challenge of creating a new dessert and even downloaded the app on his own phone so he could find out too.

After a kiwi sorbet on the thirteenth week fed to you as you walked along the canal and the honey roasted peach with almonds in the park for the fourteenth, Luca managed to convince you to delete the app and let him surprise you with the baby size. You were only all too happy to give up the app, if it meant your lovely Luca getting to surprise you.

By the fifteenth week, he’d laboured an extra two hours one evening to bring you home the first surprise size; Spiced poached pears with hot chocolate and pepper sauce. With anyone else, their husband working later whilst they were pregnant would have been an annoyance that they were working when they should have been painting the babies room or building a cot but with Luca, you fell more and more in love with him with every dessert. You knew whatever he was working on would be extra special. He loved you, loved the bump.

The sixteenth week brought avocado bars that you’d store in the fridge and end up snacking on for the rest of the week. You didn’t usually like avocado but as if your baby knew, you began craving it like crazy. Luca was apprehensive when the avocado picture popped up, nervous about this weeks dessert being based around a food you were never too keen on, but when he’d given you the tray of them you’d greeted him and the bars with the same enthusiasm as you had every other week.

Week seventeen brought a naval orange parfait served to you as Luca painted the spare room on the boat in a beautiful soft yellow. A perfect neutral for your baby. He’d built a cot by hand too and kept pausing to kiss you to thank you for the baby.

As week eighteen rolled around he’d presented you with a white chocolate pomegranate dessert and on that same day, you’d discovered the sketch book.

If he wasn’t a chef, you’d have sworn he could have been an artist. He’d drawn landscapes of Nyhaven or drawn colourful pretty flowers or feathers for you to get tattooed or doodles that would wind up as one of his own tattoos. Sometimes, he’d drawn you. Soft hair over your face as you slept, the curve of your now prominent bump that he’d talk to every night and kiss every morning before work.

Luca had always told you he was no good at school, bunked off too much to be good with Maths or English or Science, but with how precise, perfect, passionate he was about baking you knew he had to have had a creative soul so it was no surprise his art was almost as beautiful as his desserts.

In his newest sketchbook, he’d had drawn every dessert before making it. Perfect, beautiful artist style drawings and next to each one he’d dated it and written the week and the fruit and how many days until your due date.

“Luca” you bit your lip looking down at the sketch book.

“What is it darling?” He’d been busy working in your kitchen on week nineteen. From the smell that lingered on his skin and in the kitchen, you knew it would be one of your favourites. Mango.

“Are you okay? Is the baby okay, my love?”

He’d placed down the bowl and rushed the length of the houseboat to tilt your chin up to look at him with one hand and place the other on your growing bump. He was shirtless, plaid pajama pants hanging sinfully low on his hips. You could see one of the many matching tattoos you shared scattered over his side. His vows to you down his left.

His eyes fell on the notebook and he ducked his head, blush dusting over his cute freckled cheeks. You loved when you could see his freckles, and your head instantly went to picturing a little baby with freckles just like him.

“Spoilers darling” he reached for the book. “We are putting these in a baby book when they’re born”

Needing him there and then, you caught his arm and pulled him down for a long lingering kiss, pressing up on tiptoes to meet him half way.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous Luca.”

You stated before you pressed up on tiptoes and pulled him down into a long, lingering kiss.

“Need to kiss you”

His hand tangled up in your hair and his tongue pressed lazily against yours.

“And you’re so beautiful with my baby inside you” he muttered into your mouth.

God, he was even supporting you on tiptoes one handed, another strong muscular arm around your waist.

You continued like that. A soft intimate make out session, you pressed against him until week nineteens mango bavarois with your favourite passionfruit compote was ready and Luca would pick you up in his toned strong arms like you weren’t several months pregnant, sit you on the counter, stand between your legs and kiss between spoons of it.

***

“Remember at your scan last week, we put the gender in an envelope?” Luca asked you as you walked through the city on your twentieth week.

You remembered and tilted your head. “Yeah I remember…”

“So baby is the length of a banana…or a carrot” Luca explained and then paused. “I have a lovely surprise for you, my darling…I’ve asked one of the chefs to make this weeks. Banana for a boy or erm…carrot for a girl” he smiled softly.

“Like a dessert gender reveal?” You asked, a little smile playing on your lips. He was so thoughtful. That was so Luca and you loved it

“Yeah see, I wanted to keep doing your desserts and I thought it would be a really amazing way to reveal babies gender.”

“Luca you are such a dork, I love you”

Luca broke out into a lob sided grin

“He’s delivering it to the boat today. I know what you’d be like if I picked it up, you’d tease me and ask if I peeked.”

“I know you wouldn’t peek!” You exclaimed “You said you wanted us to find out together!”

“I do darling and we will…soon”

That night, Luca went all out. He lit candles, set up the table and gave you a back rub before his chef dropped off the

“They’re here my love.” Luca said as he turned, two plates with a dome each covering “don’t worry, it’s not twins” he smiled and you rolled your eyes at his playful joke.

“If it was you’d be making me double the desserts!”

He laughed and kissed you before placing yours down and then his.

“What do you want Luca?” You asked him and noticed the blush dusting over his cheeks

“I, uh, really don’t mind, my love…” Luca said but he’d always been a terrible liar and you could tell he had a preference. “Remember darling, banana for a boy and carrot for a girl. On three okay?” He said calmly although you could tell his heart was racing.

You counted down together and lifted the dome lids

“Oh!”

Before you on the plate was an expertly crafted carrot and buckwheat cake, so well designed that you could tell this chef had learnt from Luca.

“Baby girl” was written on each plate.

“Darling…it’s a girl!” Luca looked up at you so full of love, his beautiful soft blue eyes wet and gentle, his smile soft and filled with love. “It’s a girl!” He instantly came over to your side, “a baby girl” he kissed you sweetly and then dropped to his knees and kissed your bump. “Hello my little darling.” He repeated. “I already love you so much, I love you both”

Luca got up, linking your hands and kissed you again over and over before helping you up and leading you to the bedroom where he lay you on the bed and lavished you with love.

“I wanted a girl.” He whispered into your neck later that night “thank you so much for my baby”

“Knew it” you said back as you pulled him back against you.

****

Finding out the gender made it all the more real. All the beautiful that desserts that came in the form of coconut press, followed by a grapefruit pannacotta. Luca, of course, made sure it was a pink grapefruit to symbolise the baby girl.

It was the following week that you first felt the baby kick. In the previous weeks, there’d been flutters here and there but nothing too noticeable.

“I know you must be so uncomfortable my love and please don’t think I’m selfish…” he said as he rubbed your calves on a seat on the boat as you balanced a bowl of papaya cake on your bump. “But you look so beautiful pregnant, I adore the bump”

“You’re obsessed with the bump” you laughed playfully.

Your bump had well and truly popped. It had gone from looking a little pregnant to looking well and truly pregnant. Luca had, as you’d expected, became completely obsessed with the bump.

“Can you blame me? It’s my little baby in there. My little papaya.” He patted it lightly and the bowl wobbled.

“Luca!” You laughed steadying the bowl.

“That wasn’t me that time!” He squeezed your calf and then it dawned on him.

“Was that?” His blue eyes lit up meeting yours and you nodded.

“Think so.” You nodded and quickly lifted the bowl off your bump and put his hand over it, placing yours over his. It was unmistakable this time. The baby kicking.

It could have been ten minutes or an hour of you just sitting like that.

“Love…” Luca’s eyes began tearing up and you leant forward to wipe them. “That’s our baby in there. Our baby. My little baby” Luca rubbed his hand back and forward over, the fondest, most reverent expression on his face as the baby kicked again.

“Maybe she’ll grow up to be a footballer.” Luca said a little hopefully. “Future Lioness captain” he remarked causing you to start laughing.

That was so Luca. He’d never push the kid but of course that would be his first thought.

“Let’s let her finish cooking and start walking before you sign her up to football clubs in Copenhagen okay?”

Luca put his head gently over the bump speaking directly to it. “I already love you so much.” He kissed it before he rose and kissed you “And I’ve loved you my whole life.”

****

The last few weeks seemed to fly through in a mix of desserts including pineapple upside down cake, cantaloupe roll, and candied pumpkin.

You’d picked a name and the babies nursery was all but set. Luca had reassured you that; no it absolutely was not silly to want an ocean waves noises machine despite that you lived on a boat and yes you had the overnight bag packed for weeks. Luca being perfect Luca had even packed a spare one he’d taken to keeping in the car so he’d never need to run back to boat and leave you if you were to go into labour at any time.

It was the night before your due date, you sat with Luca on your boat, lying back against him, head on his chest as he had one hand on your bump and using the other to gently toy with the ends of your hair. Millefeuille with a mix of watermelon and melon rested on your legs.

“Hey” you tipped your head back on against him.“Baby might be here tomorrow.” You whispered low and quiet in the evening “Scared?”.

“Nah.” Luca shook his head “It’s my baby with my darling. Feels like everything is finally falling into place, like it’s the one additional perfect thing we needed.”

Luca would have thought he’d be terrified.

He didn’t know how to be a parent after all. His own father had dipped when he was three. After that there’d been his mums boyfriend James from when he was five to nine. He’d been a nice guy from what he remembered but eventually they’d split too. “Uncle James” had promised to still take Luca and his sister out but eventually the contact dwindled down and it was just the odd Arsenal game or a card on Christmas and eventually even that stopped and then eventually Luca hadn’t seen him since he was eleven.

So it was even to his own surprise that he wasn’t nervous. Not at all. To Luca, you carrying a baby that was his just made sense.

“I just know in my heart this is so right for us” He said, a look of love in his eyes “I love this baby and they’re not even here yet and you know I loved you the moment I met you…Loving you…having this baby with you is the most natural thing I’ve ever felt.”

He leant forward and stole a kiss from your tilted lips.

“I can’t wait my love.”

****

[seattlesellie]

just a quick bbf!ellie blurb. (this really is the definition of a blurb 💗)

cw: public teasing, mentions of fingering, cum eating, strap on sex, ellie’s a lil perv whos cutting up some fruits. i don’t know. ♡

﹒ 𓈒 𓏸 ﹒ 🎀﹒ ࣭ 𖧋 ˚ 𓂋 ﹒

right now, her big, veiny hand resting on your naked thigh is nothing but a friendly, comforting gesture — right? and so is the way it caresses you slowly, short fingernails tracing faint circles on your skin, that make your thigh shiver and your skin grow goosebumps that she feels. there’s also absolutely no underlying motive for her covering both of your bodies with a thick blanket in the middle of august, nor for her breath hitching inside her throat when you lay your head on top of her shoulder for just a quick one second.

there’s also no reason for her to not answer your brother when he asks her a question about the movie you’re all intently “ watching “, and yet — she doesn’t.

“that’s such a cool scene” he voices, but to ellie, his best friend and your… whatever, it sounds like muffled gibberish, like he’s stuck inside a cardboard box. he could be banging on the walls and screaming “let me out!!!” and all she’d hear is her own thumping heartbeat. he glances over at her, and just when he catches her gaze, she hums a startled “hm?”

her forehead is covered with tiny beads of sweat, deep auburn bangs sticking to her scorching hot skin because again — it’s the middle of fucking august and she has a fuzzy blanket covering from her tippy toes to her crotch, and the girl sitting innocently besides her has been nothing but a teasing, irritating, mind altering presence that makes her toes curl up inside her socks whenever she’s around.

“i said, cool scene… i heard he doesn’t even use a fuckin’ stunt double”

ellie shifts on the couch and tries her best to look cool, calm and collected. her knee nudges yours by mistake and you nudge it again but you do it harder and on purpose, just to feel her hand tense up on your thigh.

“yeah, super cool” ellie mutters, followed by a chuckle that makes her sound anything and everything but genuine. she doesn’t even know the name of the film you’re all watching, let alone the name of the actor or even the goddamn genre.

all she knows is the feeling of her clammy palm against your thigh, and the flashbacks of you silently whimpering out her name on the porch last night playing in her head like you’re about to be nominated for an oscar. she also knows that the same hand that’s on your body was on your lips, sealing them, attempting to shut you up because the entire house was still awake, and that the same fingers that are now trailing small circles on your flesh were buried deep inside your heat.

when she cut a fresh plum today for breakfast, it’s thick juice splattered on her tatted forearm and she swore that when she pressed down on the fruit — and made a small dent, it felt like being inside of your grippy little hole. then she pressed on it harder and her finger was poking at it’s flesh and it was wet and sticky.

then, she thought about how your eyeballs nearly exploded in your head when she curled her fingers up. “oh yeah?, uh-huh, you like that?”, she teased, and didn’t even expect you to reply — but you mewled cries of “yesyesyes ellie, oh!, more, please”, and now it echoes in her head and she hisses. she presses harder on the fruit, wiggling her long finger in, the knife is nowhere to be found.

she’s thinking of how you gripped at her forearm when she pressed down on your tummy, and sobbed a needy, sickly sweet “oh— oh god, ellie” — which is funny or lewd or blasphemous, because god had nothing to do with it, and the cross that’s splayed on your family’s house walls has probably flipped itself upside down.

afterwards, she thought of how cute you looked, glossy eyed and pouty and sweet, when she told you to open up your mouth and stick out your tongue because your honeyed juices were dripping down her hand and she wanted to see if you’d taste your own cum. and you did.

she pressed down on your tongue with her thumb, circling it over and over again and nearly making you gag, then praised you with a husky “atta’ girl” through gritted teeth and a nearly quivering smirk.

your knees pressed up against her ribs, thighs pressed down against your tits, hands being pinned up on your pillow, cunt aching and clenching around nothing because she’s just letting you grind on her silicone cock and just that — because whenever you try and buck your hips the harness presses snugly on her puffy clit and she has to physically fight the urge to take it off and rub one out, staring at you and using you whilst you’re laying on your back.

she thinks you’re so nasty you might even like it.

she clears her throat and starts thinking about cool stuff she likes. cool stuff that don’t involve you, or your hole or your lips and your eyes or your hair or your tits—

and then and only then, she feels her cheeks grow red — nearly exploding, same color but a slightly lighter shade than the plum, rolls her eyes, scoffs and calls herself a “gross perv who’s also a terrible fuckin’ friend”

because she tried thinking of stuff she actually likes and she thought of you again.

the plum looks like it’s been through hell and back. like a meek soldier who’s been through a tough war and then lost.

so she throws it in the trash, picks another one and prays to god you won’t sneak your way into her thoughts again.

and you do, so the loop continues.

💗

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Parts of Speech

These definitions explain the 8 parts of speech in the English language.

Noun

A noun identifies a person, place, thing, or idea.

Common nouns are generic: girl, boy, city, ship, desk, courage

Proper nouns are specific: Juliet, Romeo, St. Louis, Titanic

Pronoun

A pronoun renames or refers back to the person, place, thing or idea mentioned earlier in a sentence.

Personal pronouns: I, me, you, they, them, she, her, he, him, it, we, us

Relative pronouns: who, whom, whose, which, that, what

Interrogative pronouns (used in questions): who, which, what, whose

Demonstrative pronouns: this, that, these and those

Indefinite pronouns (a partial list): all, anybody, anyone, both, each, everyone, everybody, many, none, several, someone

Verb

A verb expresses action or state of being. “Helping” verbs (such as modals and auxiliary verbs) are used with base verbs to make a verbal phrase.

Action verbs: see, run, jump, sing, study, dance, cry, shout, buy, sell, fix, think, wonder, etc.

State of being verbs: am, is, was, were, will be, became, appear, seem, look, feel, etc.

Modal verbs: can, could, will, would, shall, should, ought, must, may, might, etc. These verbs are found in verbal phrases, seldom by themselves: can see, will run, might study, must sell, etc.

Auxiliary verbs: am, is, are, was, were, have, had, etc.

In a verbal phrase, remember that the modal or auxiliary verb may be separated from the main verb, especially in a question:

Did you hear me call?

She is not going with us.

How long have you been working at McDonald’s?

Adjective

An adjective describes or modifies a noun or pronoun: For example:

brown eyes

that person

ten players

Adjectives tell...

what kind: brown eyes

which one: that person

how many: ten players

Adverb

An adverb modifies or describes a verb, adjective, or another adverb. It usually answers “question” statements: how? when? where? why? how often? how much? to what degree?

The orchestra played beautifully. (How?)

The band has played there. (Where?)

The choir sang long. (To what extent?)

He is extremely capable. (How capable?)

She danced very slowly. (How slowly?)

Preposition

A preposition shows a relationship between a noun/pronoun and another word. Most prepositions show motion toward a place or location of an object. The English language has more than 40 prepositions, including: above, across, behind, below, down, in, off, on, under, through, into, of, on account of, in spite of, etc.

Conjunction

A conjunction joins words or groups of words. There are three major classes of conjunctions in English:

Subordinate conjunctions: when, while, although, because, since, if, until, even though, etc.

Coordinate conjunctions: for, and, nor, but, or, yet, so

Correlative conjunctions (used in pairs): neither/nor; either/or; not only/ but also; both/and

Interjection

An interjection expresses an emotion such as delight, surprise, or disgust. It usually appears at the beginning of a sentence and often is followed by an exclamation point:

(Delight) Wow! Gosh! Golly!

(Surprise) Oh! Ah! Yikes! Gee!

(Disgust) Yuck! Ugh! Bah!

Note: A Word as More Than One Part of Speech

Remember, a word can be used as more than one part of speech. The function of a word determines what part of speech it is.

For example:

Appearances can be deceiving. (Can is a modal verb)

The tin can of tomatoes is dented. (Can is a noun)

We should can peaches and plums. (Can is an action verb)

The French actress danced the can-can. (Can-can is a noun-noun)

[thefandomsfervent]

Viktor x Reader Personal Pigments(Part 18) - Naples Yellow

This is a jayvik x reader fic now but it'll still be labeled as a Vik Fic until it's fully implemented. Ft. JayVik fluff from here on out. I'm not a fan of angst and miscomunnication but we may see some of VERY SPARINGLY in the next sets of chapters. maybe not.

Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom.

As much as daily chapters were fun to do, not feasible with my current work schedule. It may move to a couple days between releases now. stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

It was no surprise to you that you were the first person in the studio that following morning. You made a note to yourself to ask them what their new development was, if it warranted 4 glasses of wine each. Looking at the bottle you realize that 8 glasses barely made a dent in it. An auspicious gift from the councilor. The wine sat re-corked on a table. The two gilded glasses sat next to each other by the bottle. A thin film of dried wine coating the bottom of both glasses. It caught the morning light and casted a plum colored haze on the notes and papers scattered more haphazardly than normal. 

There wasn't much that you had planned for today, just getting the official underpainting done now that a final composition had been selected. So that meant you would have time to get the two men breakfast, or a lunch if they took their time getting here today. Some teas that would be easy to reheat and simple food. Maybe fruit and bread? You're thinking back to that first time you brought them pastries and how much has changed. And what hasn't.  They talk and joke with you now including you in their routine. They care for each other so immensely, looking out for one another. You catch yourself thinking about how Jayce offered that napkin to Viktor when the Chantilly cream had tipped his nose. And how since then you’ve seen them just wipe it straight off each other sharing weighted stares after. 

Last night, when you had gone to your own room you grappled with emotions you couldn't quite grasp. Feelings that are making themselves present now, even if you couldn't identify them. Something feels heavy in your chest, and sinking feeling in your gut. A buzzing in your face. What they had, whatever it was, was a beautiful type on intimacy. It wasn't jealousy but something that had long since passed the point of curiosity. When Jayce had drunkenly tried to fumble with Viktors tie, toothy grin and red-faced. When Viktor slapped his hands away and undid Jayce’s own tie with ease. When you could see Jayce’s room and imagine Viktor’s. It just left you feeling empty. Lonely. It wasn't bitter. It just was. A humble burning you couldn't sate. It felt wrong to try and label your feelings at this point. You were certain that whatever you did ascribe to your emotions would just bring up new ones you didn't have time for. At least not to process when you see them everyday. Wanted to see them everyday 

You'd been mindlessly wandering around the lab deep in your own thoughts. Had picked up an empty glass and turned it in your hand, watching how the light played with the gold and purple stain.  There are fingerprints, swirls and whorls of proof that someone was here. You line your hand up with the marks, feeling the weight of the glass as it settles in your hand. It's cold on your gradually heating skin  "Shameless behavior" rattles through your thoughts as you set the glass back down. There's a small sheet of paper nearby with nothing on it. Quickly, you scrawl and a note on it congratulating their development and that if they were back before you there would be food and drink coming with you.  Your footsteps toward the door echo into the space. Your heartbeat is loud in your own ears. Fruit, bread, tea, and then work. Fruit, bread, tea, and then work.

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Viktor's eyes are dry when he blinks into the world. Throat hoarse. His limbs feel heavy, like they were weighted down and blended with his sheets. The fabric that he usually slept without didn't feel scratchy,  didn't feel too heavy.  When was the last time he had slept so peacefully? For so long?  He was clean, warm, content, well rested. There was the soreness in his right leg, one that throbbed and reverberated up his hip, his spine. But it didn't echo through his whole being like it usually did.  Peaceful.  It tempts him to sleep longer,  to let the pillowcase kissing his cheek lull him back to the dreamless void. It almost does before his bleary vision focuses on the clock by the door. Then that tugging in his chest makes him move like it does noon. "There is work to be done!" It's some childlike wonderment still in his core. Still wanting to do good and be praised for it. And if he got up now he'd be able to get so much done. 

It balms the headache forming, nothing that some water couldn't handle. The covers pool at his waist and he swings his legs over the side of the bed. An area rug catching his feet before the cold floor does, a gift from Jayce after he had mentioned the floor always sent a shock up his right leg. As sleep falls off his shoulders Viktor thinks about where he'd start today in the lab. He walks to the bathroom, combing through his hair. Him and Jayce had agreed that travel could work and when they had proposed it to the council they got support for the idea. Not enough to do nearly anything they really needed, but enough to prove they deserved it. Jayce had... Jayce. Him and Jayce. And You. The shower oh... oh no. Last night flashes through his mind.  And it's more than just guilt that stirs when he's brushing his teeth. He coughs on the foamy paste and his face is turning red. Out of frustration? Lack of air? Embarrassment? 

Him and Jayce had kissed. A lot. He had undressed the man that was like starlight personified and put him to bed and did not follow. Had to be the person to make sure hands stayed where they were supposed to. Like he didn't come back to his shower, hadn't spent himself at the thought of both of you saying his name. He's spitting out toothpaste into the running sink water. Washing his face. Ignoring that burning shame at the back of his neck. He was an adult. Jayce and you were adults. There was no need for frivolous embarrassment. 

He would surely be able to face the both of you with no issues today. Jayce was probably in his own panic spiral if he was up yet. Viktor spends the next few minutes getting dressed, straightening himself out and making his way down the hall to check on his... his?

"I suppose he still is my partner" the thought leaves a ghost of a smile in his lips as he approaches Jayce's door. “Realistically nothing has changed. Just the physicality of our relationship. We are able to pursue others as we have been. Now we can just pursue each other more actively.” He gently raps his knuckles on the door. A muffled curse and some thumping sound follows, silence, and then a cleared throat before a few steps. The door opens and there is Jayce. 

His hair tousled, he was in his Academy uniform. “Viktor! Good morning. It… it is morning right?” That same bright smile pulling those uneven lips up to golden cheeks. A nervous twinge in his voice. Viktor could see why you enjoyed art, being able to pull these visuals up at a moment’s notice. 

“Good morning. Jayce.” It’s hard to hide his own smile, his own nervousness. He watches as Jayce’s shoulders slowly drop with a deep breath, that grin evening out. “How are you feeling?” He makes room for Jayce to step into the hallway, watching carefully as his partner double checks his wrists and pockets. 

“Been better, been worse. Last night…” That twinge is back. His hazel eyes looked over Viktor’s face for any sign of annoyance or regret. He doesn’t find any. A warm hand graces Viktor’s lower back as they walk towards the lab. “Last night. I should have had less, to really enjoy the moment. I’m sorry.” When Viktor looks at Jayce, he feels that hand twitch when their eyes connect. The fingers move when Viktor places his own hand around Jayce’s waist. 

“We were celebrating our development.” The blush dusting Jayce’s ears are impossible to miss. “I had the wine as well. Although I had hoped to continue our celebration.” Impossible to ignore as it intensifies. “What all do you remember?” Impossible to not tease him. Jayce’s eyes widen and his hand falters. 

“Did we?” They’ve reached the door to the lab. The two of them separate at their arrival, Jayce pulling the door open. You weren’t there and he continues to speak as they enter. “Did we??” He’s racking his brain. No way he and Viktor had sex right? His memory is spacey. That damned wine. You had helped him get to his room, he can remember the smell of safflower oil and your shampoo. He can remember Viktor’s cold lithe hands undoing his tie, pushing him back onto the bed, a knee between his legs… oh gods what if they did? And he didn’t remember. “Vik, I-”

“No, we did not. And we were not going to last night either. I’d much prefer both of us with our full sensibilities.” Viktor would have loved to keep watching Jayce’s face contort with remembrance, those pretty lips pursing in thought. The anxiety radiating off him at the idea of missing out was cute but not enough to let him suffer. He’s setting his cane down by their tables and looking over the papers. “We’re going to have to get these in order again.” Your handwriting catches his eye and picks up the paper, before he can read it he feels Jayce step behind him. Nuzzling into his neck, it is warm. It is nice. And not appropriate for a lab. Yet those large hands on his waist make it hard to pull away.

“So we’re right back to work?” Jayce’s voice tickles his neck, reverberating through his skin. 

“In the lab? Yes.” He can feel himself wanting to give in already, but he doesn’t. Pulling away from that comforting hold to make Jayce look at the note you left. “Seems that we have a development to share. Any ideas?” 

Jayce pulls the paper from Viktor’s hand, a whisper of friction as it slides through his fingers. He reads it and quirks a brow with a smile. 

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

--------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 17-.-Part 19.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .-----------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[seresinhangmanjake]

Stolen Angel - Part 3

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 1426

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

JAKE POV - (One Year Ago)

He can’t stop watching you. Smiling, laughing, serving customers caffeinated beverages on their way to work. The sunlight streams through the front glass window of the cafe, the rays illuminating everything of you that they reach. Your hair, your eyes, your skin. You’re bright, happy, healthy, stunning, and it does unreasonable things to his heart.

He’s been sitting there for two hours now, not even pretending to occupy himself with a magazine or newspaper or anything that will make him less conspicuous. You’re the only thing that has his attention. The only thing that ever has his attention when he comes to this world. He spends this time, each second of it, observing your every move, memorizing every feature of your face, and when you leave for the day, he follows. Just so he can be a little bit closer to you.

You’ve never noticed him, and sometimes he chuckles at your lack of awareness and how well it works in his favor. You have no idea that he trails you from the cafe to your apartment. You have no idea that he stands outside your building as night cloaks the day. You have no idea that he leans against the same lamppost he always does when he comes to see you, his stare latched on to your window—third floor, second from the left—as you strip yourself of your uniform and into your pajamas. He’d watch forever if he could, but he, and those like him, do not have that luxury. 

The hand that lands on Jake’s shoulder is expected and he turns his head to his friend. 

“Time to go,” Javy says. “In a month you can come back and stalk her some more, but we’re cutting it close. We have to get back.”

Jake sighs, giving your bedroom window another glance. The light clicks off. “I know.”

“She’s not going anywhere. I’ve kept an eye on her in your absence and she’s had the same routine for the last six months,” Javy reminds him as he rolls his shoulders, preparing for the weight of his wings to return. 

Cartilage and bone materialize as his gray feathers, one by one, seek him out from the spot he had shed them. Each one returns to their place, layering themselves together until his wings are fully reformed. 

Javy gives them a testing flap, scattering the fallen leaves at their feet. When he sees Jake has yet to call for his own wings, he huffs. “Seriously, it’s eleven fifty-six. Do you really want to spend six months in The Tower because you chose to stare at your little girlfriend rather than be punctual…again? You literally just got out.”

Jake stands from his leaned position and a moment later his black feathers find him. He spreads his wings out in a stretch. 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Javy says with pride. “So let’s go.” Then he’s shooting up into the night, a speck in the darkened sky. 

Jake takes one last look at your window, imagining himself in that apartment, holding you, kissing you, falling asleep beside you. He doesn’t want to leave you behind. Leaving you behind is leaving a part of his heart behind. But he has to do it. For the night, you’re warm and safe tucked in your bed, and that will have to be enough for him until his return next month.

“Good night, Angel,” he mutters. “Sleep well.” Then he follows after his friend.

—

Food everywhere. Grapes smashed in between the stones of the walls; plums dotting the floor, one having rolled under the bed; juice from apple slices staining the rumpled bedsheets; the silver tray, now dented in the middle, thrown across the room. All as if some bratty tornado tore through the place. Except now the brat is missing. 

He’d guessed you would struggle to stay put once you regained enough of your energy, which is exactly why he'd planned to sit by your bed while you slept. But—albeit very reluctantly—he had listened to Javy’s advice about giving you some space for the night. A mistake, clearly, because now he has to hunt his little escapee down.

Shaking his head, Jake rubs the back of his neck and gives the room one last scan in case you got the bright idea to hide until he got close enough for you to whack him in the skull with something hard. When the assault doesn’t come, he jogs to the window and peers through it the way you were when he found you standing there the other day, your pearly wings in all their grandness cascading gracefully from your back. 

Glancing to the nearby field many stories below, he spots you seated in the grass with your knees tucked to your chest. His pounding heart stutters in relief.

How the fuck did you get out, Angel? he thinks as he hurries from the room, down the multiple twisting staircases, and through the maze of halls. You’re the last person who should have the ability to leave this place. New residents of The Tower have been known to roam the halls for months at a time, trying to find a way out until they surrender to exhaustion and return to their rooms, and yet you walked right out the front door?

When he reaches the main floor, he stops short at the silhouetted figure leaning against the doorframe. He knows that figure well, and realizing that someone he trusts has been keeping an eye on you from a reasonable distance permits Jake to take a calming breath before he steps closer. 

“She’s…content, I think,” Javy says, tucking back his large gray wings to provide enough space for Jake to comfortably stand beside him. “Doesn’t seem to want to run off.”

“Only because she doesn’t know where to go,” Jake sighs, running his fingers through his hair. And thank fuck for that. “How long has she been out here?”

“At least since four. That's when I found her,” Javy informs him. He looks at Jake, playfully grinning. “We watched the sunrise together.”

“Has she seen you?”

“No. She hasn’t so much as turned her head in hours,” he answers, then after a pause of consideration, says, “How do you think she managed to make it out on her first try?”

Jake shakes his head. He has that very same question. Anyone would. “I don’t know, but had I known she could, I would have locked the damn door.”

“Maybe The Tower felt bad for her,” Javy suggests. “You know she always made it easy for the unfairly imprisoned.”

Unfairly imprisoned. Yes, Jake supposes that is what you are. But it’s not for forever, and it’s simply to protect you while you adjust to your new life by his side. Surely, you can understand that. And then you can start accepting the happiness and love you’re denying yourself. 

“She fucking scared me,” Jake says, and Javy snickers.

“Then I imagine you're even.”

“She's not scared of me, she just has to get used to me.” Jake watches the gust of air flutter your feathers. You still haven’t moved, save for one hand's fingers which continuously weave through the blades of grass. “She's taking her damn time though.”

“Don't be unfair. She's known you for a couple of weeks—a couple of very difficult weeks—which is nothing compared to the head start you had.” Also true, to Jake’s dislike. But he’s shown you how much he cares, and that should be plenty to help you catch up. Then Javy says, “You should take her back. Just for a few hours.”

Jake’s head snaps to the right, eyes just short of bugging from his head. “Are you insane?”

Javy shrugs. “The day is coming up. It might be easier for her to be here with you if she knows she has the option to visit her world.”   

“That’s not her world anymore.” 

“True,” Javy agrees. “But don't you miss seeing her smile?”

Jake swallows. He’d give anything to see you smile again; smile at him again. Though he was gifted one when he was deep inside of you, praising you, telling you how beautiful you were, offering the same compliment since he brought you here has not elicited the same reaction. If anything, you frown more intensely, with more effort. 

“It's too soon,” Jake says. “She's still attached, and I can't trust her.”

“It's more important that she trusts you,” Javy counters. “And this could be your olive branch, my friend.”

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @fandom-life-12 @hookslove1592 @buckysteveloki-me

[wholenessblooming]

The whole point is that discovering basic goodness—discovering the awakeness, the is-ness, the nowness of things—doesn’t happen by transcending ordinary reality. It comes from appreciating simple experiences free of story line. When we see a red car with a dented door; when we feel heat or cold, softness or hardness; when we taste a plum or smell rotting leaves, these simple, direct experiences are our contact with basic wakefulness, with basic goodness, with sacred world. It’s only by fully touching our relative experience that we discover the fresh, timeless, ultimate nature of our world.

Pema Chodron, in Living Beautifully: With Uncertainty and Change

[the-oaken-muse]

Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse

Dannymay Day 24: NASA

Read it on AO3, if you dare.

Of all the places in the Infinite Realms Juno could have sent him for community service, it had to be the fucking Ghost Zone. He never thought he’d miss the Netherworld, but at least there he didn’t have to deal with Warden Pasty Face and the stick up his entire ass.

He banked a hard left, bobbing and weaving through the zero gravity obstacle course provided by the ectoplasmic landscape. Behind him, the thud of armor against rock let him know he was down a pursuer, as one of the guards collided with an island of floating debris.

God, this place was a dump.

He dove through a thick patch of green fog before ducking behind one of the many floating doors littering the not-air; grateful that he didn’t have breath to catch. Walker’s goons zoomed past his hiding place, following his previous trajectory on a trail that didn’t exist.

Ha! Suckers!

He may have evaded them for now, but he would have to keep moving. When they realized that he’d lost them, they would fan out and search, leaving no stone unturned until they eventually found him and dragged him squirming back to that hell hole of a prison to be crushed under Walker’s boot once more. He needed to put as much distance between himself and this part of the Zone as possible. Or better yet, find a way to the human realm.

He looked to his left, green. He looked to his right, green. He looked down, an endless abyss of green stared back at him.

Looks like he was going to have to ask for directions. Great.

The next door he came across was a deep shade of plum with intricate panels of solid mahogany and a crystal knob. He yanked it open.

“Hey! Anybody home? Hello? I’m lookin’ for—”

A sopping wet sponge splashed against his face. It lingered there for a moment before slowly sliding down, down, down and falling into the chasm below, leaving his face dripping suds. “…the ...nearest portal to Earth.”

The door slammed shut.

“Ugh, soap.” He wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing it with fresh grime.

He floated over to another door, this one a dark weathered indigo with a heavy iron latch. He pulled it open with a loud creak, “Wazzup!”

A burly, tattooed arm emerged from the dark interior and slapped him across the face with a dead fish before slamming the door shut.

Jesus, the ghosts here were rude. At least it wasn’t soap this time.

Next, he spun the wheel on a silvery lavender hatch until it popped up with a hiss.

“Hullo down there!” his voice echoed back. “I’m lookin’ for a human portal! Can ya help a brother out?”

A thick tentacle, in a green so dark it was almost black, snaked out of the hole. In a blink, the tentacle lashed itself around his neck, crushing his useless windpipe.

“Look, I’m a hugger as much as the next guy, but this is a little forward, don’tcha think?” he wheezed.

In response, it whipped him back and flung him into the infinite green like a pitcher throwing a fastball.

He soared, eyes watering, hair whipping, and jowls flapping, for what felt like an eternity, but the five watches on his arm all agreed was only a few minutes.

His flight ended abruptly when he splatted against a strange metal structure. Its surface hummed with energy, vibrating his entire being. He peeled himself off, smoothing out the dents its rivets left in his skin, and took a look. A swirling vortex brighter than the surrounding ectoplasm filled its patchwork steel frame. Unlike the other doors, it remained fixed in place rather than floating up and down gently in a sea of green; it was anchored to something, to another dimension.

Bingo.

He stood on the edge of the portal, plugged his nose, and dove into the pool of light.

The portal spat him out in a large room made of the same patchwork metal as the doorway. Though the scent of death was strong here, in the glowing green of the machinery and in the air, it was mixed through with the unmistakable vitality of the living.

Perfect. Now he just needed to… find a way to get his powers back again…

He slumped forward and groaned.

Living people with The Sight were one in a million, and of those, the ones that were dumb teenagers were even fewer. There was no way Lydia was going to help him out again after the whole fiasco with their wedding either. He needed a new plan, a new pawn… well, there was no time like the present to start looking.

He floated up, poking his head through the ceiling into a modest kitchen. There was a table for four in the middle of the room, but only one chair was occupied. A pair of faded blue jeans and beat up red sneakers bounced impatiently and he could hear the scratch of pencil on paper. Sounded like homework. Bo-ring!

Like a shark fin cutting through the waves, the top half of his head glided across the floor to the fridge. Maybe they had beer.

A small pile of brown crumbs just under the door caught his attention. He sniffed at them, chocolatey. He floated a little higher so that his mouth breached the tile and licked up the remains of someone else’s fridge raid.

“Mmm, fudge.”

The kid at the table startled and looked over in his direction. He could almost believe they were making eye contact right now.

It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Who the heck are you?”

Looks like it could. He cracked a rotten grin and rose fully out of the floor.

“I’m the Ghost with the Most, pleasure to meet ya, kid.”

He held out a hand to shake, a centipede skittered down his arm and around his dirt-crusted knuckles before heading back into his sleeve. The boy just stared at the proffered digit in disgust.

“The most what? Grease stains on your shirt?”

“That and so much more! You name it, I’ve got it. Charm, good looks, STDs—”

“Modesty.” The boy deadpanned.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I wear pants at least…” he began counting the fingers on one hand, “thirty percent of the time!”

“That’s not what I— You know what? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t soup you right now.” The boy snatched a thermos off the table and waved it threateningly.

Jeez, tough crowd.

He wasn’t sure what kind of soup was in there, but something told him he didn’t want to find out.

“Beeecauuuuse…” His eyes darted around for something he could use to turn the situation to his favor. Math worksheet? No. Half eaten sandwich? Maybe later. NASA t-shirt? Perfect. “I’m a star, kid.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of star?” The boy narrowed his eyes skeptically.

“Red supergiant, Orion constellation… I’m sure you’ve heard of me…”

He crossed his fingers behind his back. Please work, please work.

“Betelgeuse?”

“Got it in one, kid.” He swallowed his relief and winked. “You’re even quicker on the uptake than Lydia!”

“Who?”

“Uhh, no one! Hey, what’s that?”

Betelgeuse darted over to a group of photos on a shelf and picked one up.

“Who’s the chick in the tight blue suit?” He whistled, letting the back of the frame fall open and the picture to unfold. “Really doesn’t leave much to the imagination does it?”

“Um, ew! That’s my mom!” The kid snatched the photo out of his hands and inspected the back of it. “How did you even do that?”

“I’d let her be my mommy any time.”

“…I will literally do anything for you to never talk about my mom ever again.”

“Anything?”

“Like, within reason. I’m not gonna, you know, kill anybody or anything.”

“Would you… be willing to… maybe… say my name three times in a row?” He bit his lip in anticipation.

The kid considered him suspiciously. “Is this like a kink thing?”

“What? No! Pshhh! No! Well maybe sometimes… Absolutely not, no. Cross my heart! See!” He drew an X on the right side of his chest.

“Yeah, no. Still don’t trust you.”

“C’mon kid!” He skidded to his knees in front of the boy. “Please, please, please! I’ll owe you one! I’m good for it! Promise!”

He clutched at the NASA shirt desperately. He couldn’t let this kid slip through his fingers, it might be another hundred years before he found another living person who could see him. He’d tasted the blood of freedom and he wanted more.

The boy grimaced and tried to pull away, Betelgeuse scrabbled after him. “I’ll get out of your hair, promise! Just three little words! Just three!”

“Okay, jeez, fine. If it’ll get you leave,” the boy groaned.

“YES! I mean!” He cleared his throat, “Yes.”

“Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse. Now get out of my house.”

Power surged then fizzled within him.

“Wow. That was anticlimactic.” He deflated. “Ah well, a deal’s a deal! See ya kid!”

He flew up through the ceiling with a sloppy salute.

What a chump! That was almost too easy.

 -later-

 That was definitely too easy.

Betelgeuse scowled as yet another hand reached through his head to grab a jug of milk.

His powers had been on the fritz ever since he got them back. One minute he was turning the floor into a writhing mass of roaches, the next, poof, they were gone! The unsuspecting sap he’d been about to scar for life left… unscarred.

He could tap someone on the shoulder, but when they turned around, they just looked straight through his carefully crafted horror show of a face; he’d hidden in dumpsters to jumpscare people taking out their trash, but they didn’t even see him; and his fruit fly cream pies went right through their targets.

Figures, it was just his luck that the one fucking human in this whole damn city who could see him was fucking defective.

Betelgeuse opened the glass door and stepped out of the grocery store refrigerator, he needed to find that kid.

[tinydooms]

Top 10 dishes and foodstuffs?

Ooh, good one!

Fresh bread (real bread, European bread, not the crap we have in the States) with various toppings. Personal favorites are butter and red plum jam, toasted with peanut butter and a banana on top, and toasted with mashed avocado

Really good coffee (freshly brewed in a moka pot with fresh, hot milk and a dash of honey)

Pizza: from a small local pizzeria with fresh crust, garlic, chicken, and lots of vegetables

Berliner bouletten and a vinegary potato salad

Korean barbecue and kimchi

Ramen with fresh noodles, a good savory broth, lots of al dente veggies, and a 7-minute egg

Cannelini bean stew with garlic and braised red chard

Chicken salad: homemade of rotisserie chicken, celery, red grapes, tarragon, and freshly made mayonnaise and mustard (to be eaten on crackers with a good cheese on the side)

Banh mi sandwich from one of the local Vietnamese eateries

One-pot stew: always the same, always different, with a basis of potatoes or white beans and whatever veggies I have at hand, in a really good broth

And now I've made myself hungry!

Ask me my Top 10 anything! :-)

[nescaveckwriter]

Wandering Love - Chapter Three❤️💞

A/N: Awww I know it's been awhile, but here's Chapter 3 🐞, hope y'all enjoy this one💞

Side note: Thank you for the love and support 🐞💕

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual content, some scenes may be triggering please read with care.

The glistening moon is high in the sky, no stars in sight, a shotgun, resting against the wooden door, a rocking chair , going back and forth, lean fingers clasping to the handle, the long blond hair, getting tossed around, every now and again as the wind picks up, the brown worn out Stetson boots, tapping to the sounds of the crickets, the cowboy hat, is drawn low, so that you can't make out her face.

 A smile tugging at her rosy plum lips, as she recalls the memories of the man she loves, the deepest blue eyes, you've ever seen, his accent deep Texan, definitely different from the folks she used too know in New York, he was a large big man, towering over her, but she never felt afraid no, she felt safe, thinking back now, she felt home, but she left him there that day on the train station, wanting to explore the world, searching for a adventure around every corner, to learn less privileged kids literature, her parents never quite understood her wild spirit, she was highly educated, but wanted to travel, instead of marry a banker and get a white picket fence, with little ones running around.

Its been almost five years now, that she left him, standing there, she almost didn't leave, her heart was breaking, but she knew if she didn't go, she'd might look back one day and blame him, and no way she'd wanted to do that, she loved him to much to. But, if only she never left, she was always a lover and not a fighter oh no, but that sweet man, of hers told her that, if she's going to leave he will make sure she can protect herself, he taught her how to ride a horse, how to throw a punch, or two, always so careful not to hurt her, he's such a gentle teddy bear, but when the training with the guns, came she didn't want anything to do with it, but he insisted, so the first time, she pulled that trigger of that '45 the kickback was so surprising, that it threw her to the ground, of course he laughed but he helped her up, dusting her off, placing a sweet kiss on her lips, saying "you can do this my sweet little woman-child" and well today, she's got two 45's holstered on her belt, yeah her life, didn't exactly turn out as planned, she went about three towns over, when she got a place to stay by a sweet family of four, growing quite fond off them, two beautiful children and boy who took after his father and a little girl, who reminded her a lot of herself of that age, so she taught them how to read, and write.

 A tear rolling down her cheek, one day when she came in from the fields, bringing some corn and other vegetables, she heard the kids screaming , "Mommy" and as she ran in, she saw the two kids hiding underneath the table, there mother beaten, her dress torn, three men towering over her laughing, she screamed at them "leave her alone" which made one of the pigs turn around, tapping the other men, "aren't she a pretty one, so young, I will have some fun with you," she's not really sure where she got the courage from but she howled back, "you want me come and get me" the big man laughed, walking towards her with big ole steps, he stood a few inches from her and she threw a punch to his face, he didn't even dent backwards, he just laughed and threw her to the ground.

As he wear tearing at her dress, she saw his weapon at his side, and she went and grabbed it, pulling the trigger without any warning, the big guy, fell on her, and it must've been the adrenaline, but she rolled him off of her, getting up and shooting the other man and then the other, she was shaking like crazy, she was forced to take not only one life but three that day, tears was staining her cheeks, but the woman was grateful and the kids still had a mother, as for her , the sheriff of that town wanted to arrest, her, she shot he's brother so that's probably why. And ever since that day she's a renegade that's on the run, standing up for the folks who can't stand up for themselves. That's what brings her too this old town ' Grave Springs'

Sitting on the porch, waiting for other heartless bandits, and bounty hunters to come take this older man Bobby Singer and get the reward, dead or alive, he supposedly murdered his wife, but she knew it was the Jefferson brothers, her good friend she made along the way, he's a sheriff a couple towns over, one if the good one's, Dean Winchester, Bobby is like a father to him and his brother Sam, so when she got the request to come and keep an eye on him, till they can get here, she said she'll do it without hesitation. So while the old man is getting some shut eye for the road ahead, she's out here keeping watch, reminiscing about her life, and every now and again, remembering the love she found in Benny.

Whispering underneath her breath "I still miss someone, I'll never get over those blue eyes, I see them everywhere, I miss those arms that hold me," she heard the song playing in a saloon and it stuck with her, resonating with the words, the only problem is she is the one who left, not him.

 Her eyes wet as she dreams about what could've been, but he's probably gotten a wife by now, no way, he'll wait for her, he has gotten quite a few more years on her. Oh how many times, did she wanted to get on 'Savannah' and ride her up in the mountains, tell him she's there to stay in his arms, till the day she dies, but how could she bring all this to him, not much the people chasing her, but more the person who she is now, she's not the little woman-child he used too know, she's not his Willow now more, nowadays she goes by, CJ, short for her real name, Charlotte June.

She not the lover anymore, but rather a fighter now, fighting in more ways than one, fighting to stay alive, fighting to stay out of jail, fighting to stay the woman she was five years ago, fighting not to give into her hearts request to and get her man, hell all she ever does is fight, and to be honest she's tired of feeling so damn tired.

Taking a sip, of the small bottle of Jack, she can't help but smile, remembering how much Benny liked he's liquid gold, that was until they spend some time together, he didn't drink as much, they were to busy, loving each other.

Glancing over the stretched out darkness she can't help to feel that's the way her soul feels, she hated sitting still, that's when her head is filled with all those memories and thoughts, its exhausting. But it's her fate, and there ain't  a damn thing, she can do about it!

Her head shifting to the left as she hear the rustling of the leaves, already getting up out of the chair, grabbing the shotgun pointing it in the direction of the noise, the moonlight just lining out a figure of a big fella stepping out off the bushes...

Chapter Four Here :)

[artemisbarnowl]

Here is my new couch!!! She is sooooooooo beautiful. The upholstery is in great condition, as are the padding springs and straps underneath. VERY COMFORTABLE!! I can lay down comfortably on my side to watch telly or my back to read or sit or flop or sit upright with a guest. The trim has lost some colour and is loose in a couple of places but nothing to worry about immediately. Wood all looks fine, ,couple of minor dents or scuffs but very easily polished out I think. The colour is more plum than pink and it's LOVELY but I'm not sure how it goes with the yellow wall, so I might decide to reupholster later anyway. I'm sooooo happy she's here.

Other couch will probably go back to Melb in 2 weeks but we will see

[taevisionceo]

A GIFT 🙏 … ECHOES OF YOU ... A FASCINATING WINTER-LUNCH… FASCINATION 'S YOU

It's my lunchtime 🤪🤪😋😋😋 A GIFT 🙏 … ECHOES OF YOU 👍💫💃🏻🕺 "A FASCINATING WINTER-LUNCH… FASCINATION 'S YOU"

PROVENÇAL RATATOUILLE WITH BEEF AND SPAGHETTI Ingredients… Ratatouille… onion, tomatoes plum 🍅, red bell pepper, zucchini, eggplant 🍆, olive oil extra virgin, salt, sugar, garlic, basil leaves. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil, and cook spaghetti according to package instructions until al dente. Sauté the beef with garlic… add the beef to the ratatouille and cook until all flavors are combined… if is req'd add a little of the pasta cooking water to loosen the sauce. Serve over warm spaghetti… add fresh basil, and parsley… sprinkle cheese.

TIMBALE OF FRUIT SALAD Apple 🍎, pear 🍐, raspberries, peach 🍑, pineapple 🍍, cherry 🍒, prunes… season to taste… Irish butter, olive oil, HELLMANN'S mayonnaise

LAMBRUSCO DELL'EMILIA Rosato🍷

[ravynfyre]

Twenty. Fifteen. JFC.

spent the afternoon *finally* unloading the hundreds of pounds of food given to me by the food bank for my livestock. also had to unload a few hundred pounds of actual livestock feed, too. slow and steady wins the race, but the shoulder (and the knee) are still going to be exceptionally pissed for the next couple weeks, I imagine.

however, in the process of unloading the food bank stuff... (a refresher for those who didn't know: the food bank sends everything that they cannot safely give out to humans to me, to feed out to my various livestock as treats and supplements, because the cows don't care if the plums are mushy and the sheep don't care of that bag of corn chips expired in november of 2022 [yes, that's a real example. from today] thus it keeps food out of the landfill, and my critters get treats. the food bank had a huge food drive sponsored by the Boy Scouts on the saturday before friendsgiving... and people always dump their unwanted food during drives like that. that bring us to today...)

12 huge produce cases full of cans and bags and boxes and bottles. five milk crates full of cans. now, I haven't examined all the cans yet - that will happen when i start opening them and feeding them out - but one I snagged off the top of one box...

a *dented* can of peas... that *expired* at the end of 2015. TWENTY FIFTEEN.

who the FUCK would think that was an appropriate donation? Like, SERIOUSLY. That can is NINE YEARS EXPIRED.

jfc, people, don't do that. My geese may not care how old the peas are, but *I* care if they fucking get BOTULISM. So, yeah, THAT can will be going straight into the trash, thanks. ffs.

[valnes941]

Satellite of Cybertron/Chapter 5

In the centre of Festus Fax stood a building, as semi-circular and steel-grey as many around it, but it was many times larger and therefore more imposing. It was a temple dedicated to Primus and the first 12 Primes. It gave rise to the greying, as it was the first building constructed in the area. Of course, it was originally intended to house all the inhabitants of the fledgling village, but as time went on and new houses were built, that function fell away. However, the structure did not cease to be a gathering place for all the inhabitants, both for meetings and religious ceremonies, reminding them of the greatness of the Creator and the First Ones. Throughout the city, a bluish white light could be seen at track locations, gaining in brightness with each click.

On the steps to the temple sat three mates - one fem and two mechs. On the top step sat a focused pink femme. Behind her back loomed the wings of a motorbike, she was somewhat more massive than the stereotypical two-wheeler and the constructs that would have acted as wheels in an altform were four in number. Her helmet and limbs were decorated with yellow lines. In her manipulators the fem held a discoloured photocell of a metallic fern and scratched thoughtfully at it with a sharp metal stick. Against her sat an equally serious plum-coloured mech. His wings were tense against his back, his dents were gnawing hard on his stylo, and his optics were trying to melt a hole in the photocell in his manipulators. The bright blue elements of his armour stood out against the darker base colour. Between them, a step lower, lay a yellow mech with its doors spread out slightly, boredly shifting its gaze back and forth between Metric and Divido. It was clear even to the mentally calculating Lenis that the former was about to crush his opponent in an artistic contest. He stretched as he rose, glares running down the grey patterns on his body. Time was running out.

"That was it, the three breems were up."

Fem set the stylus aside with her helmet proudly raised, while the mech doomedly lowered its manipulators with an unfinished drawing. A few more clicks passed. The yellow mech rolled up its orange optics.

"Guys, show me, you're the ones who called me here for this."

Arrogantly spreading her pink motobike wings, Metric showed off her leaf. A cougaraider was scrawled on it, walking confidently through the thicket. A frustrated Divido, slouching even more, carefully opened his creation. There was something to look at - something was looking at them from the sheet: the fact that it stood on two servos and had two manipulators, the creature resembled an ordinary cybertronian in a robomod. But that was pretty much where the similarities ended. There were horns sticking out of the helmet, an obscure triangular protrusion on the faceplate between the diamond-shaped eyepieces and a little above the fanged mouth, the geometric body was closer to a ball, the wings (three branches each) were too small, and knife-sharp fingers were present on both the manipulators and servos. Lenis re-examined the two drawings.

"Well, Divido, I'm sorry, but Metric did a better job of depicting the word ‘force’."

Fem grinned contentedly and cradled the painting gently in her arms. As if anyone could take it away from her. The losing mech grimaced as he examined his work - it wasn't going to get any less ridiculous or more impressive. "I just don't take the easy way out," he pouted.

"What do you mean?" Metric squinted, gripping her sheet tensely with her fingers. "What are you implying?"

"I mean," Divido faltered a little, but didn't look away. "That me used his imagination more than you."

The yellow mech prudently began to step around the arguing couple, heading up to a safer place than the stairs. He didn't need to be Vector's messenger to realise that standing next to them was not a good idea anytime soon. Meanwhile, the conflict had reached a climax - unable to withstand the sudden round of glares, Divido ran - only plum heels glistening. An angry Metric chased after him. A merry catch-up ensued, and the altercation was still going on.

"But that's just it!" The mech barely dodged the leaf "You just drew Strag!"

"I drew Strag well! Without looking at him!"

"And I drew Cronid! Without ever seeing him!" he ducked. "Before that!"

"Your drawing is a piece of scrap! And we both know it!"

The temple door slid open slightly, creating a gap in the seemingly impregnable rounded wall. After a few astroseconds, the passage opened fully, and an elderly white and silver mech wearing a metallic cloak stepped out. He nodded slightly to Lenis, and then his faded yellow optics focused on the mates who were still screaming and scurrying up the steps.

How was it a miracle none of them had fallen yet?

With a scream, Divido crashed into him, and Metric crashed into Divido before he could slow down. The young artists raised their helmets in unison, examining the suddenly appeared obstacle.

"Messer Chorus!" The two pairs of red eyepieces rounded amusedly, and the dark pink and plum wings drooped in embarrassment. It seemed like just a little longer and they would lie on their backs in an attempt to look into the faceplate of the incredibly tall in comparison priest. Which wasn't surprising considering the old mech was one of the largest residents of the settlement.

Chorus smiled softly, and his blades showed from beneath his grey cloak.

"Hello to you too," the mech quickly got to the main point. "So, what's all the fuss about?"

Metric and Divido looked at each other unhappily and just silently handed the photocells to their guardian. He carefully evaluated both drawings.

"Well, Metric, you're definitely better than before," though the femme's armour shuddered slightly, she quickly regained her modest appearance, smiling slightly. "And Divido…"

A thoughtful expression appeared on the priest's faceplate. Both sparks showed a talent for drawing, but each had a different aspect they were most interested in. In that respect, Metric was… easier to understand. She strove for maximum accuracy, capturing the moment as it was. Her successes were easy to spot - for example, he was now holding an image of Strag, not some cougaraider. Divido, on the other hand, possessed an imagination that at times seemed boundless. In this case, however, the sheer number of images was more of a disadvantage - he often tried to add new ideas to the drawing on the fly, which overshadowed the original meaning. The final result was incomprehensibly-interesting.

And so it was this time.

"It's definitely… something," he tilted his helmet thoughtfully to the side. "What exactly did you want to draw?"

Spark, who'd already been excited, grew sad. Here we go again. He mumbled something quietly.

"What? Sorry, old mech, I couldn't hear you." Chorus bent down.

"Cronid." - he repeated harder and louder.

The supoptic arches of grey-silver mech lifted in surprise. Why of all things…? No, to be honest, initially he'd been more inclined to think it was some kind of weird predacon or something. But - a cronid?

"It was a competition," everyone immediately turned to Lenis. The yellow mech, leaning against the temple wall and crossing his arms over his chest, continued. "They drew on the theme of ‘force’.

A heavy sigh was heard from the priest's side.

"So, may I ask the reason for such a… unconventional choice?" no, he's certainly a servant of Primus and a preacher of the wisdom of the Primes, but he's certainly not one of those proud fanatics from the north who can't see beyond their manuscripts.

"Well, there's been so much talk about that… a vorn ago, the whole village was abuzz with the discovery of an unknown beast. Who hasn't seen that fire show in the sky at the Darkest Hour? Even in the mines they saw the purple glow and the whistling roar on those nights. Also..." Chorus realised that he had to stop the young talent's flow of thoughts, already regretting his question.

"Good," he stroked the sporkling's helmet lightly. "Okay, I think I get it."

It seemed to be a trivial curiosity, which was not surprising. While there were still stories about Primus and the deeds of the 13 Primes in the temple, there was very little information about their opponents, Unicron and his 5 Krones. It makes sense that the events that took place in this vorn have so stirred the sparkian imagination.

Still, the shouting outside so early in the morning wasn't the only reason he'd come out.

"Has anyone seen Canor? And Stan…"

"Out for a walk behind the wall," everyone looked at Lenis again. "Classic and Bellic promised to keep an ocular on them."

Chorus vented deeply. Good thing it was those two. The monochrome brothers balanced each other well: Classic - the older - was more principled, while the younger - Bellic - was more flexible. They were the constant gatekeepers.

"Oh, there's Stentor! And Canor!" Divido shouted joyfully and started running towards them. "Canor, Stentor!"

The old mech, having followed the sparkling, also saw the familiar orange and green figures. The diminutive, quiet Canor unlike many of his other apprentices didn't get into trouble on her own. And speaking of trouble…

Stentor had been asked to look after the spark's older sister, Somnick, as she had been busier lately… more than usual. Und Vox - her teacher, the hunter - was due back soon, after almost a vorn. So the femme had been disappearing into the forests from morning to night for training, eager to show off her skills to the best of her ability. Now, her younger brother is an extremely active little mech who at times got into trouble because of this and helped others with it.

In a nutshell, ever since he settled here on a permanent basis, this old priest had more things to do than he would have liked. However, looking at the group of kids now, with their conversations buzzing, he couldn't help but think that everything that had happened was for the best.