#robert carrying that much money on him really?

[bobbie-robron]

How’d you not know it was a bad idea?

I did know it was a bad idea. I just didn’t think of a better one.

16-Jul-2019, episode 1

[deceitfuldevout]

Highest Bidder

Dark!Robert Fishcher x Sugarbaby!Reader

Word Count: +3,066

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Loss of virginity, Human auction, Housewife kink, Breeding kink, Misogynistic remarks, Insults, Just plain abuse, Robert is a warning himself.

Author's Note(s): I have been thinking about this for a hot minute. Inspired by @mypoisonedvine Robert Fischer fic go check it out!!

You couldn't stop checking your phone for an update. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Did he bail? Part of you had hoped so. It would make things a lot easier. Years ago, if someone had told you that you'd be auctioning off your virginity, well, the first thing you'd do is laugh in their face.

That was before everything went to shit. Your parents ended up in neck-deep debt trying to pay off your college, borrowing money from some sleazy loaner company. Soon having no choice but to debate on filing for bankruptcy. Everything they've worked hard for, gone. You didn't want them to worry about that anymore.

This wasn't a huge deal for you. Personally, you've never had any luck with guys and would rather get this over with. Growing up you were always the awkward, ugly duckling of the friend group, so a boyfriend was out of the picture. Only sharing an innocent kiss with a childhood friend, but that was a long time ago. It was only after you reached your 20's where you began to bloom.

He'd bought your outfit and covered the cost of everything. He wants you ready and waiting for him, all wrapped up like a pretty present. He's very particular about these things, even making a list of errands to run before the big day. He requested for photos of the hair and makeup you'd be wearing for the evening. Scolding you every time you did something he disliked. He wouldn't even try hiding it. You reread his previous text message: Change the makeup. It makes you look like a cheap whore. You scoff at the response...how rude.

Even before all of this he would try to test your patience. Sending messages like, 'Do you know who I am? You should be more grateful that I'm giving you this much attention," or "Anyone would be lucky to be in your position,' which made you physically roll your eyes. This morning, he had given you a call as a reminder of where you would meet. He send you the hotel address with money for a cab.

He made sure to give you call in the afternoon as a reminder of what to do after arriving, ending it with, "I don't want to hear any complaining when I get there." before hanging up. You grumble a stray of curse words, this had better been worth it...

You couldn't believe your eyes on how luxurious the hotel was. It's entrance had been decorated with marble and brass statues. There wasn't a drop of it that didn't scream 'money'. You sheepishly sign in, allowing a worker to carry your bag to the room. It had taken a while before you could reach the top. Part of you was impressed, he had really gone all out.

As soon as you enter the room there was this sort of romantic ambiance to it. From the lighting, to the breathtaking scenery of the city. It was all so...dreamy. But this was no dream. You were going to have sex for the first time with some old, rich geezer, gross. You take note of a shopping bag left on the bed, opening it to find a lingerie set.

You held the fabric, inspecting the material. White lace, with hints of glitter that shine in the light. At least the old man has good taste. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, humming at the sight of it. Not bad...hell, you looked fantastic.

Suddenly the door knob jingles, then a heavy knock follows. You leapt from the bed, approaching to open the door for him. But before you could reach the knob it slams open. A man enters, sporting a well-tailored suit, dressed to the nines from head-to-toe. His hair is combed back, a few strands dangle against his forehead. As you scan the man's face, you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was.

There's a light rosy hue to his cheeks. You first notice the striking blues of his eyes and how long his lashes are. He looks like he'd have no problem at all searching for someone. So what is he doing paying for someone like you? For a moment, you were in awe of his presence. Staring back at the man like a deer caught in headlights.

The meeting today had taken its toll on Robert. He was supposed to meet with you hours ago, but there had been an emergency with the company's shareholders. He could practically feel his blood boiling, to the point where it felt almost difficult to breathe. He tugs his tie off and yanks for his shirt to open, a few buttons go flying. He lets out a huff, scanning the room with his blue orbs for something, more specifically, someone.

"So you're the one I've been talking to eh?" a hint of humor in his voice, "Let me guess, you're a good girl caught up in the wrong crowd? Is that it?" he taunts, "I'm sure you've 'never' done this before," the corners of his mouth turn upward into a sinister grin. His eyes are emotionless. Cold as ice. Yet why did they seem so comforting? As if you've seen them before.

He drops his suitcase at the end of the bed, turning towards you. He eyes you up and down, as if he were deep in thought, "Give me a spin," and of course you follow his orders. He raises a brow, "Come here," he commands. You stare back at him, unsure of what he'd just said. Robert sighs, he doesn't have time for this. He's slightly drunk and exhausted from work. Right now he just wants some hard, animalistic fucking.

He tugs your underwear to the side, examining his prize. He bunches up the waistband of your panties before yanking the fabric down. You held your breath, now riddled with anxiety. This was a bit too...casual for comfort. He fists the fabric, holding it to the side while the other hand held your hip.

His voice is deep, much deeper in person, "Hold it for me," he wants to get a good look at his purchase. His thick fingers slide down your pubic area, grazing against the bare skin, he hums, "Even waxed yourself like I told you to, good girl." he slaps the side of your hip, as if he were examining livestock. Your stomach coils at the realization. Never in your life have you felt so...objectified. Still, now wasn't the time to back down. He pushes you against a desk. Until you were now leaning on the table.

He spreads your folds with his thick digits, examining them closely. He held your clit between his fingers, pinching it lightly. You let out a whine from the sensation, bucking your hips from the sudden discomfort. He retreats his hand before flipping you over. His chest now against your back. He pushes you against the table, bending you over for a better view. He was in no rush.

He rubs his fingers over your bare slit. His thumb caresses your bundle of nerves. As soon as he retreats you finally snap the fabric back in place. Now lowering your head with embarrassment. He grips your chin, lifting it until you're face-to-face, "No don't hide from me now..." he plops himself on a chair, tilting his chin up, "Why don't you make yourself useful and help me get this off?"

If you weren't getting paid you would've scoffed at his rudeness. It was obvious he was into power play. Being in total control of everything. Now wasn't the time for letting your emotions emotions get involved. You help him remove his coat and tie, even unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. He's still wearing his pants, now unclasped. He stares you down, a smirk now lingering on his cold features, "Take off your clothes,"

When you start to quickly unclasp the garter belt, Robert's voice booms, "Stop." he orders, "Do it slower," he leans back in the recliner, already palming his erection. You shyly unclasp your belt, letting the straps fall off each shoulder. His hand grazes on an exposed breast, sending shivers down your spine.

He chuckles, "Oh...don't tell me you're that sensitive?" a crude remark. Your brows furrow, why did he have to tease you so? He notices your obvious discomfort, "Don't worry darling, your only job is to fuck," as if that would make things better, "Do you know how to suck cock?" he questions. You give him a hesitant nod, "No...I've never done it before this is my first time--"

"I didn't ask for a whole life story,"

"...No," your lips press in a thin line. He was really pushing it, "So you've never had sex or sucked cock before, tell me, what have you done?" he pulls out his member, already hard and leaking. It's tip was flush pink, the same as his lips. He spits into his palm before working himself up, he knows you're nervous. He wants you to be intimidated by him. He pumps his shafts with slow strokes, "Tell me, what gets you off..." he sighs.

You look down to your feet, suddenly his voice booms, "No, do not look away," to which you began to tear up. His voice is soft now, "Sweetheart, look at me," he huffs. You look up at him now with tearful eyes, he groans, "Oh...that's it..." stroking his cock faster. A finger points directly at you in a 'come hither' motion. You walk towards him, still eyeing his shaft. How was that going to fit?

You felt warm despite the lack of clothing, there's a pooling sensation between your legs. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap. His tongue darts against a breast. He teases the bud with his teeth. He made sure it was swollen and sensitive before giving attention to the other breast.

You never knew it could feel this...good. As soon as your hands reach for his hair he instantly stops, Robert remembers the reason why you're here. It wasn't to see him. You only wanted one thing, and he doesn't have time to play pretend. He just came here to collect what he's owed. At the end of the day, you were just a hired whore. He swats both hands away, giving you the cold shoulder. He lifts himself from the seat, throwing you against the carpet. You're confused at the sudden mood swing. It frightens you. Where the hell did that come from?

"It's a shame, you were doing so well," Robert sits up, his leaking cock now presses against his abdomen. He's pissed. He paid you for your time, you were suppose to focus only on his needs. Every word that came from his mouth dripped with anger, "It seems like you need a reminder on whore etiquette," he knows you've probably fucked a few before him, this was all part of your little roleplay act.

"I'm not a whore!" you detest lying, what made him not believe you? Forget it...this wasn't worth an argument, "You know what? You can take your money back asshole! Fuck this and fuck you--" a hand grips around your neck. He'll have to show you a thing or two of what comes with selling yourself out, especially to a complete stranger. You've always knew deep down that you'd regret your first, but this was downright terrifying.

This man, he didn't even see you as a person. As a human being. To him, this was all a transaction that was paid for, "What did you think that website was for? It's a human auction. Not just your cunt. Meaning I own your ass for the next few hours," he leans in, pressing his nose against yours, he growls, "Remember your place..."

Robert pulls you up by the hair, throwing you onto the bed. You scramble to get away but he's much stronger. He began to wrestle you. To which you land a slap on his cheek, hard enough to leave a mark. You pause, now too scared to move. He touches the tender skin, it would surely leave a bruise tomorrow. Which just so happens to be an important meeting, "You little bitch..." he grips your jaw until it aches, forcing your mouth to open.

He takes the opportunity to spit inside, covering your mouth and pinching your nose. You felt like you wanted to gag. Finally, after fighting to hold your breath, you swallow. He grins, "See? even if you try to fight me, I always get what I want..."

You, of all people, should know this about him. Instead you try putting up a fight, "I hate you! I hate you! Let me go!" thrashing around. Both of his hands now pressed against your throat. He scolds, "If you want it to hurt I'll make it hurt like nothing else..." he flips you over, pressing his body against your own, making it harder to breathe.

He lets his pants slide down. Tugging off his boxers. He spits a wad into his hand, that should be enough to get comfortable, for him. But for you? Well, he wants it to hurt you. Otherwise, how will you learn? Whores like you deserve to feel pain. That's what you get for teasing him in your photos. He growls into your ear, "Time to try my pussy..."

He yanks down your panties before pressing his leaking tip against your opening. He muffles your cries in his palm. You couldn't hold back the tears. This man is going to break you! As retaliation you tilt your head to the side and bit into his forearm. He grunts from the pain, it only encourages him to carry out your punishment. He thrusts harder, grinding down his hips to reach as deep as he could go.

You sob from the pain, going limp from shock. All you could do was cry into his hand, bracing yourself against the cushioning below. You turned your head to face the mirror, taking a good look at your own sad, pathetic reflection. You were being dominated by a complete stranger. How did it get to this point? When did you become so pathetic? So desperate to the point where you became a whore for hire?

He held you close to his chest. He knows now you're too tired to fight him off. He kept jutting his hips back and fourth, moaning in your ear with a deep grumble. You could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. It repulses you. The only sounds that could be heard in the room were of skin-to-skin slapping, Robert's insults, and your muffled cries.

"Fuck....fuck m'gonna cum..." he grunts. He rubs his nose against the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scented perfume. He drags his face across the soft, supple skin. He can tell by the shimmer that you applied an expensive lotion earlier. Of course you wanted him, what woman wouldn't? He's handsome, rich, successful, he's the entire package.

So why were you begging for him not to finish inside? You were just being stubborn, that's all. He'll have to remind you of who's in charge, "I bought this pussy fair and square. If I want to put a baby in it, then bitch, I will," he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, biting until the skin breaks. He doesn't stop thrusting his hips. Plunging his cock deep inside to coat your womb. He moans, furrowing his brows from the feeling of your velvety walls.

"You think you're better than me huh? Old enough to fuck but not old enough to get knocked up, yeah fucking right" he huffs, "You just wanted an excuse to be whore..." His voice becomes hoarse, as the pleasure began to increase, "Fuck...fuck I'll buy you a big house just so I can fuck you in it...hm...yeah you'd like that wouldn't you?" he doesn't stop his vigorous thrusts, "I’ll fuck some babies into you hm? You'd like that? I’ll give you a baby with blue eyes…something to remind you of me…" he flips you over, locking an arm around your neck.

All you could do was whine as you wait for the inevitable. Robert licks a stripe against your ear. He grunts with satisfaction, "Want you to remember this for the rest of your life....every time you think about your first time, you'll be thinking of me...." he fastens his pace. All you could do was stare back at your reflection. A tear trickles down your cheek. You couldn't help but agree. It was true, this moment would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Robert knows it. That's what gives him such an ego boost. He felt like he was on top of the fucking world. He growls in your ear, "Remember this, I.Fucking.Own.You." before unloading his spunk deep inside. He muffles a moan in the crook of your neck, bowing his head down to feel the bliss of it all. Fuck, he never came so much in his life. Was it the adrenaline or the pussy? He doesn't care. All he knows is that it's money well spent.

He slowly begins to pull out, hissing from the pleasure your pussy gave. He moans at the sight of his shaft dipped in a crimson tint, "Fuck me...if that isn't a sight for sore eyes..." he's made sure to mark his territory. He flips you over, you're too scared to even look at him.

He slides his hand from your stomach to your pelvis, "Hold on...I want to see it.." giving your lower abdomen a light push, forcing the rest of his seed out. It's mixed with a string of red. His lids are hooded, there's a twitch to his features. He grins, "Fuck...guess you weren't lying about me being your first..." he chuckles, "And here I thought you were just another lying whore..." playing with your emotions.

Robert lifts himself from the bed. He retrieves his belt on the floor, tying your wrists to the bed post. He doesn't want to risk you running away from him. Not while he still had a few hours left. He fixes himself in the mirror, coming his hair back to how it was before. Making sure that there wasn't a single strand out of place. He admires himself in the mirror. He felt like a fucking champ. Like nothing in the world could stop him, and so far there hasn't been.

Robert knew this was a good idea the moment he saw your profile online. He'd been tracking you down for quite some time, it's been a while. His obsession growing with each message sent. He had to own you. Mind, body, and soul. It was a good idea to install the hidden camera in the hotel. He could only stare at you from his office, viewing you changing into the set he'd purchased, admiring yourself in the mirror. He had to wait another agonizing hour before work was finished.

He notices the way you'd tried being presentable, all for him. How you would constantly check your phone just to see what his orders were. Submissive, compliant, needy. So fucking needy. That little pussy of yours needed his cock to break it in. He doesn't want it to end, he tosses a few bills onto the mattress, you don't even flinch. Your mind had already escaped.

Robert leans in, caging your body with his arms, "Why don't I keep you as my little plaything, hm?" he knows you've recently graduated. But what use was a degree compared to what he could give? What greater reward than being his pretty little housewife? You might as well put those looks to use. He plants a kiss against your lips, humming in satisfaction, "Need a good girl to balance me out..." he begins to rant, "And if you ever think of leaving me, I'll send a video of us fucking to your parents,"

But the thing is, you never told him who your parents were. It was then when the pieces began to fall into place. How could you be so stupid? His username was R-Morrow.

This was no other than the owner of Fischer Morrow, the man responsible for your landing parents in deep debt. Of course they trusted him, because he's your childhood friend. You lift yourself up and face him. Your voice in disbelief when you question the identity of the strange man, now with a tearful look, "R-Robbie?" you whisper. He pauses for a moment, head turning to the side as he looks your way, "Did you miss me?"

"...Why? I-I don't understand..." you began hyperventilating. This wasn't happening. Your childhood friend had taken your virginity. At one point, he was your entire world. He approaches you, no longer a lanky young boy but a man. He cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours. He sighs, "Don't you remember the promise we made? To find each other?" his eyes bore into yours, "I could only dream of it, but now?" he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him, "Now you're finally mine..."

[flowerandblood]

The Taste of Shame

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: mention of sex working, sexual tension ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients - however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. It turns out that what he wants and what he doesn't no longer matter when he meets his friend's younger sister for the first time. Slow burn, sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Until he met Criston and Robert at university he was a total loner, really only going to classes and shopping. Ever since he moved out of his family home, he didn't feel the need to interact with anyone except his mother and his youngest brother.

Nonetheless, once their quantum physics professor selected them as a group to tackle a joint project in his class, it turned out that they got along very well.

He was quiet and withdrawn, best at solving equations and finding the correct formulae; Robert threw interesting, chaotic insights and ideas from his sleeve, and Criston pulled it all together to form a whole.

They scored the highest possible grade and from then on they naturally stuck together; Robert and Criston didn't seem to mind that he usually didn't contribute to their discussions, simply allowing him to be in their company with a cardboard cup of coffee from the vending machine.

They often asked him where he got his money from, since, according to him, his parents did not help him financially to live in a completely different city. He usually answered evasively, feeling a squeeze in his throat in those moments, a fear that one day they would somehow find out how he made his living.

What he was doing.

That women paid him to tie them up, to beat them, to slap them, to degrade and humiliate them, to fuck them in ways he wouldn't even be able to explain, taking unspeakable satisfaction from it.

He was a professional; he signed contracts that included each party's boundary and safety words. He expected his clients to have medical examinations to make sure they didn't carry any diseases, but he used condoms anyway.

He rented a bedsit intended as a meeting place, with no intention of hosting anyone in his flat; his main rule was not to get emotionally involved, apart from having sex and entitling himself that his client was comfortable, he did not get into any conversations with them even though they tried to do so.

It started with one woman, Alys, who he met when he graduated from high school; it turned her on when he tied her up, when he fucked her while telling her she was a nobody, when he punished her and it shocked him what a tremendous sense of power it gave him.

She told him admiringly that he could be a professional dom and earn a lot from it, which gave him pause for thought. To her despair, he ended their relationship shortly after he started doing it for money, recognising that he didn't want to break his rule about not having a relationship, where she already knew far too much about him.

He was more careful with others.

They called him sir and knew nothing about him except what they read on the website.

He admired in a way how desperate some of them were, how much they were balancing on the edge of overdoing it; in a few cases he had to check their pulse to make sure he hadn't killed them.

His clients were not poor women and sometimes, for extra things or to show him their admiration, they paid him more than what they had agreed for; however, he never accepted excess money, knowing that if he broke the rules they would think they could expect more from him, which he was unwilling to allow.

So, for obvious reasons, he kept his profession to himself, fearing that if his friends found out about it they would think he was just fucked up. He genuinely liked them, as well as the field of study he was attending, and didn't want to change anything in his life.

When Robert invited him and Criston to his house for his birthday he agreed immediately, seeing no obstacles to celebrating with him; he knew that apart from him and Criston there would be a few more friends from his neighbourhood and he was fine with that.

When he got his car into his driveway he decided to have a smoke before going inside, tired after a long, intense session with his female client, wanting to clear his mind.

That's when he heard her for the first time.

"Are you Robert's friend?!"

He looked over his shoulder and saw her − she had jumped off the blue slim bike with the white basket in the front. Her hair was loose and in a slight disarray due to the wind, her face pink from exertion, her full lips parted slightly in a quickened breath, her large eyes shining with curiosity.

He felt everything he saw in his cock, looking at her pale, with his eyes imagining her moaning beneath him with that pleading, sweet voice to keep fucking her.

"− yeah −" He hummed in a slightly trembling voice, taking a deep drag on his cigarette, trying to hide what was happening to him, in what direction to his horror his thoughts had fled.

"That's wonderful! I'm Robert's sister. I forgot to buy candles for his cake, which was rather unfortunate considering it's his birthday and I had to go quickly to get them." She said breathing heavily as she walked with her bicycles deeper into the driveway, looking at him expectantly over her shoulder. "Do you have a lighter?"

He couldn't play the idiot and pretend he didn't have one, so, as she requested, they went around her house and walked inside from the terrace, walking quietly to the kitchen − he could hear the voices of Robert, Criston and the other guests in the distance.

She opened the fridge, which illuminated her pleasant, smiling face with a bright, bluish light, and slowly pulled out a meringue cake with a cucumber glaze decorated with berries.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I was making it for the first time. Can you help me?" She asked lightly, pulling candles from the pocket of her dress.

He just nodded, feeling his mind working in slow motion, his heart pounding like mad, his mind focused on her body and on her scent, some sweet, girly fruity perfume.

He thought, swallowing loudly, that she was like a ripe peach or strawberry, begging to be bitten into, to taste its flesh.

He pressed his lips together, sticking the last candle into the crisp texture of the meringue, thinking with despair that he was a disgusting man, that she was his friend's younger sister.

And above all, she was not his client.

He handed her a lighter; their faces lit up by the warm glow of the fire as she began to light the candles one by one. She smiled at him when she finished in a way that made him feel like saying he didn't give a shit about the candles, the cake and Robert's birthday − just to pull her panties off her legs and fuck her on the countertop.

"Let's go." She said warmly and he nodded, letting out the air from his lungs, watching her with a look that, had it not been for the darkness in the room, would surely have terrified her.

They walked into the living room; his sister began to sing a Happy Birthday loudly and the other guests joined her in chorus, Robert stood up embarrassed but clearly pleased. After a round of applause, he walked over to them and blew out the candles, saying happily that his little sister remembered how he loved the meringues and hugged her.

He lowered his gaze at the thought that they were close.

That he needed to pull himself together.

When Robert offered him a drink he immediately agreed, distraught and terrified at the thought of spending the whole evening in her company; she walked around the room with a smile, talking to everyone lightly as if she had known them for years.

At the same time, he craved and feared that she would eventually sit down next to him, noticing his distancing and tiredness and walked out into the garden, sitting down on a bench, lighting a cigarette.

He closed his eyes as he heard someone's footsteps and for some reason he knew, subconsciously felt, that it was her.

He smelled her scent as she sat down next to him with a quiet creak of old wood and slowly opened his eyelids, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

She was holding her drink, probably vodka with orange juice and mango, for some reason it seemed obvious to him that she only liked alcohol if it was sweet.

"Beautiful evening." She said warmly, softly, her gaze slightly dreamy, gazing up at the cloudless, starry sky, her body as if spilling over the backrest of the bench, her head lying comfortably on it, framed by her shiny hair.

He thought with embarrassment that he couldn't cause her pain even if she begged him to.

Though maybe he could slap her buttock a time or two before sinking his face between her thighs, leaving the red mark of his hand on her skin.

He swallowed loudly, taking another drag on his cigarette, looking ahead, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen, the arousal he knew so well, his manhood twitched in his trousers.

He didn't answer.

After a moment, however, Criston came out to them, chatting them up, making him feel relieved, feeling like he was going to go mad because of her presence.

He left the party faster than he wanted to; Robert tried to stop him by saying that he could spend the night at his house, but he refused, terrified by this vision, knowing that he wouldn't last, that he would go to her room.

That one word from her would be enough to make him fuck her and regret it for the rest of his life.

He would leave her with nothing afterwards.

She seemed like a good, nice girl, deserving of a decent man who wouldn't think about tying her up.

As he drove home in his car he breathed out loud, somehow proud of himself, knowing that he had done the right thing, that maybe he wasn't as bad a person as he thought he was.

He fought with himself not to look for her on social media, and although he himself had accounts under pseudonyms with black squares in place of profile pictures, knowing that she was Robert's sister, finding her was too easy for him to resist.

So, in despair, he spent the evening giving up, recognising that if someone publishes something on the internet it means they agree to let others look at it. He swallowed loudly, surprised to see a new notification on Facebook and it was nothing other than an invitation from her.

He felt the cold sweat on his back and the quick, hard pounding of his heart, as if he was about to defuse a ticking bomb.

Accept?

Reject?

Do nothing?

He stared at his screen with his lips clenched and involuntarily clicked accept.

Fuck.

He ran his hand over his face, knowing it wasn't the best idea, but that if he removed her quickly from his friends now she'd still get a notification that he'd accepted her before and it would be weird to say the least.

He figured that she had surely only added him because he was a friend of her brother's and she had no intention of doing anything more with it.

He almost choked on his tea when he saw that she had sent him a message.

He stared at the chat bubble and clenched his eyes, clicking on it, unfolding the conversation, recognising that he wouldn't fall asleep if he didn't see what she had written to him.

He looked at her message with a fast-beating heart, reading it several times, swallowing quietly with a sense of some kind of relief that it had no subtext. It made him feel warm at the thought that, in essence, what she had written was kind and affectionate, expressing only her innocent concern and gratitude.

He figured he could write her back without any remorse that he was doing something wrong, for some reason feeling excited about talking to her.

He wrote back and sighed heavily, recognising that his reply was terribly dry and distant, but then thought that perhaps it was better. He twisted restlessly in his seat looking expectantly at his screen when he saw that after a moment she had displayed his message.

He involuntarily smiled reading it and thought she was sweet.

Over the next few days, he involuntarily returned to that brief exchange of words, thinking only of the fact that he wanted to somehow strike up a conversation with her again, although he didn't know how to do so.

"What are you thinking about, buddy?" Robert asked him with amusement, slapping him on the back with a friendly, masculine hand gesture; he swallowed loudly, pulled out of his reverie, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Nothing."

One of his clients had expressed a desire to meet again after their last session, wanting a more intense experience this time. Looking at her message, he ran his hand over his face, for some reason feeling doubts surging into his mind, though he didn't know what they stemmed from.

What would she think of him if she found out?

During the meeting with his client he had given her everything she wanted, but there had been no intimacy with penetration between them and he had satisfied her only with his hand.

He felt for some reason distanced from what he was doing, as if his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

He imagined that if it had been her lying in front of him he would have done it differently, that he would have brought her to the edge of despair, but he would have had more understanding and patience, he would have been tender to her.

Why?

When it was all over and the woman had left he cleaned everything, threw the old bedding in the washing machine and put on the fresh one, so that it would be ready when he returned there.

He left and locked the flat, then ran down the staircase and headed for the car park across the street.

"Aemond!" He heard a happy, girlish, warm voice, her voice; he turned over his shoulder, terrified, for some unexplained reason certain that she had caught him in the act, even though they were standing in the middle of the street.

She jumped off her bike halfway down the road, grabbed the handlebars and ran over to him, a shopping bag in her basket, a cute fabric clasp backpack on her shoulders.

She was dressed in dark, long high-waisted trousers, pleasantly emphasising her waist and a short-sleeved T-shirt, her hair tied up in a braid that was partly blown by the wind.

She stood in front of him smiling broadly, in the light of the sun her face seemed even more gentle and soft to him, although she appeared to him to be nothing more than a figment of his imagination, so he merely stood and looked at her with his mouth slightly parted.

"Where are you going?" She asked lightly, her eyes shining with an innocent, childlike curiosity from which he felt a tightening in his throat; he thought she literally beamed with a kind of warmth from which his whole body shuddered.

He licked his lower lip quickly, swallowing loudly as he tried to get any meaningful sentence out.

"I'm just getting home." He said in a low, cool, distant voice, having no idea why he sounded that way − he had the feeling that his whole body was somehow trying to prevent what was just happening to him. She blinked, cocking her head as if she was expecting the rest of his statement, though he wasn't planning one.

"I…I had my business to take care of. And you?" He changed the subject quickly wanting to distract her from himself − she smiled even wider, shifting from foot to foot.

He noticed the outline of her breasts under her T-shirt proving she had no bra underneath and looked away, horrified and aroused by this discovery.

Fuck.

If she was his, he'd show her what he thought of it.

He squeezed his eyes shut wondering what he was even thinking about when the last thing he was looking for was a relationship.

"I'm just going to a lecture by my favourite professor in the history of philosophy. Want to join me? Entry is free!" She said clearly excited by her own idea and proposal, and he swallowed loudly, looking at her in disbelief, analysing quickly what she had said, whether he should do it.

He had no commitments, his whole evening was free.

He hummed under his breath, putting his hands in the pockets of his black trousers.

"How far is it from here?" He asked hesitantly, and she waved her hand.

"The lecture will be held at the Community Centre, two streets away. Five minutes' walk."

He looked at her, at her pretty, overjoyed face, and gave in.

"Why not."

_____

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[lau219]

After Hours

•• Robert Fischer x Reader ••

Mood Boards Previously shared sneak peek

Part 1

…………………………………………………………………………….

“You forgot to sign again,” Y/N said, lifting her head after glancing over the sheets of paper in her hand.

She’d been about to move on to the next topic they needed to discuss, but then she noticed the one thing she needed from him was missing from the document. As usual.

“Robert,” she said.

Holding the pages back out to him, she waited for him to take them from her outstretched hand, but he’d already looked away to look at a message on his phone, distracted and not replying to her.

She raised her volume slightly.

“Robert.”

He didn’t even flinch.

“Robert!”

There we go.

“What?!” He lifted his head and looked back to her, frustration and surprise clear on his face as he furrowed his brow at her shouting.

“You didn’t sign this,” Y/N replied, her voice at a normal volume again, looking at him with equal frustration. “I need you to sign this.”

Not responding, instead just blowing out an exasperated breath, Robert glanced down at her hand and took the papers from her after setting his phone down. Hastily, he signed them before handing them back to her and then picking up his phone again. He was scrolling through his messages while Y/N organized and tidied the papers.

“You sign your name on dozens of documents every day,” she said. “Yet somehow, whenever it’s something I need from you, you always seem to forget.”

Robert didn’t reply, picking up a pen from his desk and writing something down. Watching, Y/N tilted her head as she continued to look at him.

“You really ought to slow down a little,” she said. “You’re always rushing. You should slow down and take your time on things.”

Again, he didn’t respond.

“Are you just going to ignore me now?” she asked with irritation.

“If I do, will you stop pestering me?” Robert finally spoke, his eyes now on his computer screen.

She gave a small humorless laugh.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fischer,” she replied, her tone sarcastically apologetic. “I didn’t realize that I had to somehow do the job I was hired to do without actually involving you in any way. If only it was my name on the building instead, hm?”

Finally, Robert turned to her again. When he looked at her standing there with her hand on her hip and her head tilted in annoyance, his immediate thought was how beautiful she looked even when she was frustrated with him. But as usual, he forced himself to push any thought like that back down and answer her instead.

“I’ll have your name put on the building if it means you’ll stop pestering me all the time,” he said to her, but not harshly.

“Or, you could save us both the aggravation and just sign things when I give them to you the first time,” she replied.

They looked at each other for a quick moment, and then Robert raised his eyebrows.

“It’s signed now, isn’t it?” he asked her smartly.

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head at his response, Y/N then pulled out the planner she always carried with her from under her arm. The floral design on the cover was, coincidentally, a perfect visual translation of her personality — colorful and vivid, yet elegant and soft.

But with Robert, Y/N’s softness sometimes gave way to something a little bolder, where, in situations like the one they were currently in, she wouldn’t tolerate him. She’d disregard the fact that he was the wealthy son of Maurice Fischer and co-owner of the company, that it was his money she was handing out, and that although she was a one-person department, he was still her boss. At times when he’d frustrate her, rather than grinning and bearing it, she’d let him know, in one way or another, that she was irritated.

And Robert let her get away with it.

Why? Maybe it was because she was incredibly good at her job. Maybe it was because he wasn’t nearly as much of an asshole as everyone assumed he was.

Or possibly, it was because he secretly could never stop thinking about her.

In truth, it was all of those things.

“The meeting with the candidates for the School of Arts grant is on Friday at 1:00 p.m.,” she said to him, continuing on again as she looked down at her planner. “I’ve narrowed it down to three schools, so we have to choose one after this meeting.”

Then she flipped the page.

“And we need to coordinate a time that works with your schedule to meet with the foundation board members. We need to convince them to give the homeless shelter another chance at the grant they were working for.”

“Why?” Robert asked, looking back to his desk.

“Because, unfortunately, they missed the deadline for submission due to some complications with the paperwork. So we need to restart the process again.”

Robert looked at her.

“You know the point of a deadline is to meet it?” he said, the hint of an amused smile on his face.

Y/N looked back at him.

“I know,” she said. “But this was out of the shelter’s employees’ control. City Hall didn’t get the documents they needed for submission back to them in time, so then their hands were tied.”

“Restarting the process means multiple new meetings with the board,” Robert continued.

“Yes,” she replied. “I know.”

“It would eat up a lot of time that we already spent on it the first time around,” Robert finished. “Not to mention, you already filled all my time next week with events for the last grant we awarded.”

Y/N tilted her head again.

“So are you saying you won’t do it?” she asked him.

When he just looked at her, she held his eyes as she spoke again.

“Please, Robert, this is a really important project.”

Robert smiled and shook his head.

“You say that about every grant proposal. You’re supposed to filter through them, Y/N, not try and get approval for every single one.”

“You and your father have the ability to make a difference, and that’s the whole reason your father hired me — to help you do that.”

“My father only agreed to starting a grant program because the board convinced him it would make the company look better,” Robert said to her. “Charity isn’t actually high on his priority list. Or on his list at all.”

Y/N gave a knowing smile then, laying her hand on his desk as she spoke.

“I know,” she said softly. “That’s why I’m asking you to approve the reapplication for this and not him.”

Robert looked at her again then, and there was something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite describe, but it seemed to be something almost akin to affection. It was the way he’d always imagine her looking at him. But once again, he pushed the thought down.

“You think I’ll say yes when we both know he’d say no to giving them another opportunity?” Robert said to her.

“Yes,” she nodded, continuing to smile, looking at him with those beautiful eyes.

“You really think I’m that much of a pushover?” he asked her, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

“No,” Y/N replied. “I don’t think you’re a pushover at all. But I know you’ll agree to do this.”

Robert raised an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure that means you think I’m a pushover,” he said.

Still looking at him, Y/N shook her head, her expression changing from warmly amused to serious.

“No, it doesn’t,” she said, holding his eyes. “It means that I think you’re a better man than your father.”

Part 2

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[foreverrandomwritings]

Honey, Honey

Summary: Based off this ask for my Taste of Twenty-Five event. All the reasons Bob really loves his truck in chronological order.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Reader has a service dog for unspecified food allergy. Illness, death(not Bob or reader), swearing, the training exercise accident and smut at the end. MDNI 18+ only!

Word count: 6,560 (I got a bit carried away)

Masterlist M's Taste of Twenty-Five Masterlist

Bob’s truck meant the world to him. He had been obsessed with it growing up. He’d ride around in the cab with his grandpa around town. They’d have the windows rolled down and would be listening to an old blues tape. The cup holders always had two cups of sweet tea in them. There was a picture of his nan in the visor and Bob always dreamt about having a picture of his future girl up there. His grandpa took great pride in his truck. Bob remembered all the times they would be in the garage with him handing him tools and turning over the key when he was told to.

“Can you hand me that wrench?” Bob grabbed the wrench quickly and handed it over to his grandpa. There had been a gurgling noise when they had run up town and when his grandpa asked Bob if he wanted to help find out the problem Bob jumped at the opportunity. 

“Bobby boy go ahead and turn it over for me.” His grandpa called from his place under the hood. 

“Okay pops.” Little Bobby wasn’t even tall enough to reach the pedals but he could reach the key. He jumped into the truck and pushed the key into the ignition. Excitement was coursing through his little body as he turned the key and the engine came to life. He loved that truck then because it was something him and his grandpa bonded over. 

Then eventually his grandpa got sick and wasn’t able to drive the truck anymore and it sat and sat and sat. Until his grandpa passed away at the beginning of his junior year of high school. His grandpa had left the truck to Bob in his will. So Bob got a job as a busboy up in town that he would juggle between school and helping out on the farm. 

He saved up all his money and during the summer between junior year and senior year he fixed up the truck. He had it repainted the vibrant green it used to be. He had a strict schedule written down in a little notebook he kept in the glove box on when to change the oil, the tires and all the maintenance he’d done. He loved that truck then because it was a small piece of his grandpa he’d always have with him. 

Then when he went off to college he had packed up the bed and made the solo trip with one of those old blues tapes and a glass of sweet tea in the cup holder. When nights would get stressful due to exams or work or missing home he’d climb into that truck and go driving, never having anywhere in mind. He’d flip that visor down and look at the blank spot where the picture of his nan used to be and dream of a day he could add his own picture up there. He loved the truck then because it was a piece of home. 

Eventually that truck moved to and from different bases depending on where he was deployed. He never owned much so it was always easy to pack everything up in the bed and take those solo trips. He’d occasionally look in the passenger seat and wish there was someone there enjoying the old blues tapes that filled the glove box. He loved the truck then because of all the possibilities it made him hopeful for. 

The first time he ever met you he’d been driving to the farmers market early one Saturday morning to get some groceries for the week. He always liked to be one of the first ones there as it was always quieter and he could go booth to booth at a good pace. There was also a booth with tea, coffee and baked goods that opened before all the others that he liked to go to first thing. 

He was only about ten minutes away when he spotted you. You were on the side of the road, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder staring at the smoke billowing out of your hood. He pulled over behind you and clumsily climbed out of the truck. He adjusted his glasses and made his way over to where you were standing. You weren’t alone either, you had a cute little gray and white pitbull sitting next to you that looked at him curiously upon his approach. One ear was mostly gone and its tail looked a bit short as well. Bob noticed he wore a service dog vest. 

“Please don’t put me on hold again.” Your voice was pleading but you let out a large huff of air, rubbing your fingers into your temple. Bob guessed whoever was on the other line had indeed put you on hold. Bob cleared his throat awkwardly and your eyes snapped open from where you had closed them. 

“Uhm. Hello?” You greeted him, he could see clear confusion on your face, which was very pretty he might add.

“I noticed you were having some trouble and I was wondering if I could help out in any way?” His hand was rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Oh. Do you happen to know anything about cars?” The look on your face now was pure hope. The dog beside you was wagging its tail but remained sitting in its spot. 

“I know a thing or two.” He responded and your eyes lit up. Something he decided he wanted to see again. When you started talking again he took that moment to take you in. You were in a pair of worn medium wash jeans with the ankles rolled up and a pair of mustard yellow vans adorning your feet. His eyes looked over your cream shirt where a picture of bees and a jar of honey and a honeycomb sat, with a logo on it; Honey Bee & Comb. 

“It started making a weird clunking noise and then it just started billowing smoke. I barely got it to the side of the road before it shut off. I’m on the phone with a towing company but they keep putting me on hold.” You looked utterly defeated. But Bob gave you a reassuring smile and told you to pop your hood. You did as he said and opened your door to pull the lever. He pulled the hood up, turning his face to the side as the smoke barreled out and fogged up his glasses. He propped it open and backed up a few steps where you were once again standing. 

“Looks like it’s overheated, I have a friend that owns a body shop. He could give you a tow. I can call him right now if you’d like?” Then there was that light in your eyes again. 

“Would you mind? That would really help me out. I’ve been on the phone with these guys for about thirty minutes now.” You waved the phone out in front of you dramatically. He assured you it was fine and pulled his own phone out and pulled up the contact. You hung up your phone and two rings later and the person on the other end answered. 

“Hey Shawn. Would you be able to head out here to Weston street? I have a woman here with me that’s got a broken down car.” You waited as the person responded, looking him over he was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans, worn boots and a navy blue ford t-shirt with a flannel over it. You thought he was the prettiest man you’d ever seen. 

“Alright, I’ll see ya soon.” You quickly looked away as the blonde hung up so he wouldn’t catch you staring. 

“He said he’ll be here in fifteen.” He informed you as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. Your shoulders sagged as you let out some of the stress. 

“Thank you so much….” You trailed off looking at him expectantly. 

“Robert.” He winced as he said it. Because he hasn’t had someone call him that in years. 

“Well thank you Robert.” His name rolled off your tongue and he almost groaned at how sweet it sounded. 

“I’m Y/N, this is Lewis.” You said gesturing to the dog who still sat in the same spot since Bob had walked up. Silence grew between you for a moment as you both stared at each other. 

“Where are you heading to?” Bob hoped you didn’t think he was a creep asking that. But you only gave him a smile and hooked a thumb over your shoulder pointing behind you. 

“Heading to the farmers market.” Bob lit up at the reply. 

“I’m heading that way as well.” You cocked your head and seemed to take him in once again. 

“Oh yea. I’ve seen you around. You’re one of the few early ones.” Bob nodded his head a blush dusting his cheeks and neck at the fact that you had noticed him. 

“Seems as though you are as well.” Though Bob hadn’t remembered seeing you before. 

“I have a booth there so it’s kind of implied that I get there early.” You didn’t seem disappointed that he hadn’t seen you. Which he was thankful for because he didn’t want to disappoint you. 

“What’s your booth?” His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to rack his brain. 

“I sell bee made products, honey, beeswax candles, chapstick and what not.” You waved your hand over your shirt and he finally made the connection. He’d seen your booth but had never gone over because his ma always sent him honey when she shipped him stuff from home. 

“Do you want to load your stuff into my truck? I can take you to the market since I’m already going there anyway.” He was really really hoping you would say yes. You fortunately told him yes and you both loaded up all your stuff into the bed of his truck. Lewis sat in the cab patiently as you loaded everything up. Shawn ended up coming shortly after and towed your car off. Reassuring you he’d have it looked at by the end of the day. In the ride to the market Bob informed you that Shawn was his front seater Michaels husband. 

After Bob helped you set up your booth even though you told him he didn’t need to worry about it. He offered to take you home as well, to which you thanked him and informed him that a friend of yours that had a booth would be taking you home. As you watched his face fall you had nervously asked him if he would like to go to dinner one night that week. He very quickly told you yes. You swapped numbers and then parted ways. He loved his truck that day because without it he probably wouldn’t have been able to help you. 

On your first date he picked you and Lewis up in his truck. Where he had jumped out and rounded the hood to open your door for you. He had given you a bag of treats for Lewis and a compliment on how gorgeous you looked. You spoke about random things including how you had rescued Lewis from a local shelter and put him through service dog training for your food allergy, until you got to the restaurant. Dinner went amazingly and before you both knew it you were in his truck heading back to your house. 

The windows were rolled down and you were humming along to the blues tape that was playing quietly. The cool autumn air was whipping through your hair but you didn’t seem to mind. Even when it got stuck in your chap-stick that coated your lips. When he came around to open the door for you again and you stepped out you asked him very sweetly if you could kiss him and he sheepishly nodded his head. Then he proceeded to lean you up against the truck and kiss you both utterly breathless. He loved the truck then because it was where he had found the feeling of home again in the form of you. 

You’d been dating a few months at this point. He had awkwardly asked you one day if you wanted to go steady with him. Your cheeks had gotten all warm and you gave him a sweet smile and a soft peck on the lips. Then you told him you’d love to go steady with him. The both of you had gotten into a routine of him coming to pick you up and take you to the farmers market on weekend mornings when he wasn’t deployed. 

This particular Sunday had been going like every other one had. You sat in your seat with Lewis between you though he was mostly laying on your lap. You’d picked out an old blues tape and had popped it into the stereo. You were petting Lewis on the head absentmindedly and occasionally sipping on your glass of sweet tea that was held in your other hand. 

You just passed by the spot you’d first met each other and a small smile formed on your lips. Your eyes turned to look at Bob to see him already glancing at you. Your eyes lit up and your smile got bigger and he felt his chest tighten and before he knew it he was spilling out three little words that made you feel like your bees at home were swarming in your stomach. 

“I love you.” He looked at you wide eyed once he realized what he had said. Was it too soon? Would you say it back? Would you leave him? Wait, why were you laughing? The sound of your laugh flowed through him and had him blinking slowly as he stopped at a stop sign and stared at you in bewilderment. 

“I love you too Bob.” You told him before leaning over and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He took a deep breath and tried to hide the blush that was taking over his face by looking back at the road. But from the way you were looking at him he knew that you saw it. He loved the truck then because you loved him. 

You and Lewis came and picked him up in his truck after one of his deployments. Your car had been acting up again and Bob had insisted you use his truck while he was gone. You knew how much the truck meant to him so you made sure to take great care of it while he was away. You drove the three of you back to your house where Bob had moved into before he left for deployment. Lewis laid in his lap and he pet the dog on the head as he admired how breathtaking you looked driving his truck. 

Once you got home you and Bob reacquainted yourselves with each other before starting on dinner. You had thought you’d had all the ingredients for said dinner but had forgotten to pick up one thing from the store. Bob offered to run up the street to grab it and you told him you could make something else but he assured you that he was up for the short trip. Lewis went with him because he didn’t wanna leave his side. Plus in the safety of your home you didn’t need to worry about your food allergy. 

The sun was still shining so he flipped the visor down and was pleasantly surprised to see a Polaroid picture of you and Lewis in the bed of his truck. You had a large smile on your lips and Lewis had his head tilted to the camera in an absolutely adorable way. Bob couldn’t help the smile that took over his face. 

“I’m gonna marry her one day.” He told Lewis who responded with a soft bark and wag of his tail. Bob loved his truck then because he finally had a picture of you in the place he always wanted one. 

Bob had been super secretive and awkward for a couple of weeks now. You hadn’t thought much of it though, you trusted him more than you trusted anyone else so you figured he had a good reason for the way he was acting. When he asked if you would like to accompany him and Lewis on a secret date you had enthusiastically told him yes. So you had both driven out to a field that Bob had found one day on a hike that was accessible by vehicle as well. 

He made you sit in the cab as he and Lewis got everything set up in the bed of the truck. Why he needed Lewis’ help was lost on you but you just shrugged and took in the view around you. It was such a pretty spot and you understood why Bob loved it so much. You climbed out of the truck when Bob called for you. You gasped when you saw what he had set up. He had laid out a bunch of blankets and pillows. A variety of foods and drinks were spread around. He had lined the side rails with strings of lights. Bob asked you to sit next to Lewis so you did and then noticed he had something in his mouth. 

“What do you have there, boy?” You asked him, holding out your hand waiting for him to drop whatever it was. But what you weren’t expecting was a ring box. You turned to Bob with wide eyes only to see him down on one knee and a nervous smile on his face. 

“I have been completely head over heels for you since the first day I saw you on the side of the road. I couldn’t imagine my life without you honey. Would you go steady with me for the rest of our lives?” The flashback to him asking if you wanted to go steady had you giggling as tears streamed down your face. You couldn’t get any words out so you resorted to nodding your head frantically. 

He reached out a hand and you handed him the box. He opened it to get the ring out and you sobbed at how perfect it was. It was absolutely everything you wanted in a ring. He slipped it onto your finger and as soon as it was settled you were pulling him towards you. Your lips crashed against his and you could feel the mix of yours and his tears in the kiss but you didn’t mind.

“I love you so much Robert.” Slipped out of your lips when you finally pulled away. 

“I love you too Honey.” He whispered to you and then peppered your face in kisses. The rest of the night went by spectacularly, you had dinner and the three of you cuddled up and watched the stars for hours. Bob sat against the truck with you between his legs and Lewis between your own. Your head laid on his shoulder then your breath evened out and he loved his truck then because you said yes. 

You guys had decided to have a small wedding. It was his friends Michael and Shawn whom you had grown close to. Your friend who took you home that first day you and Bob met was ordained so they married the two of you. And of course there was Lewis. You decided for your honeymoon you’d drive up to finally meet his family. 

Which is exactly what you did. Even though you’d met them through FaceTime and phone calls you’d never met them in person. You knew how much they meant to Bob so you were buzzing with excitement the whole way to Lima, Montana. 

Everything was going smoothly. You left early Saturday morning hoping to get there by Saturday night. It was Bob's turn to nap so he was. His head was on a pillow leaning against the window on the door. Lewis had his head in his lap and was sleeping as well. Then suddenly Bob was being woken up with a gentle touch on his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open slowly and grabbed his glasses from the dash before finally focusing on you. When his eyes landed on your face he was suddenly fully awake. You had silent tears streaming down your face and looked at him fearfully. 

“What’s wrong honey?” He asked you softly, reaching out to grab your hand. When he got ahold of it he felt you shaking and that only worried him more. He looked around quickly and noticed you were pulled over on the side of a back road. 

“I’m sorry.” Was all you said with a sad voice. 

“What’re you sorry for?” You looked down at where your hands were intertwined and mumbled out your reply. 

“We have a flat tire and a large scratch down the side of the truck.” He furrowed his brow at you in confusion because when in the hell did that happen? 

“What happened honey?” He unbuckled his seat belt and scooted closer to you causing Lewis to switch him seats. 

“Just come and look.” You told him and opened your door climbing out and he followed you. When he got out and saw the large scratch in the green paint down the side of the truck he couldn’t stop the gasp that slipped through his lips. A sob left your own mouth and his eyes quickly found you again.

“I’m really sorry, I was following behind a truck and he had a bunch of stuff in his bed. I thought I was far enough back that if anything flew out I wouldn’t be within range of being hit. But a piece of barbed wire came out and I just couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. It popped the tire and scratched up the side.” You took a deep breath before continuing, your fingers danced along the scratched paint sadly. “I know how much you love this truck. I really love it too and I’m so so sorry that this happened.” 

“Oh honey.” He said softly, taking you in his arms and kissing your head. He breathed in the smell that was uniquely you and took a moment to gather his thoughts. 

“It’s okay honey, we’ll put the spare on and once we get to my parents we’ll go into town and get them to replace the tires. Then we’ll have Shawn fix the paint when we get home. I’m just happy that we are all safe, you handled the situation perfectly.” He ran his hand down your back as you calmed your crying. You guys then changed to the spare Bob had been thoughtful enough to pack in the bed. You got into town late and met his family who all completely adored you. 

The next day you went into town to the only mechanics there was. You paced the lobby until they came out with the keys and told you everything was taken care of and you were good to go. You practically ran out to the truck and Bob loved the truck then because you loved it just as much. 

When Bob had gone down in the training exercise with Phoenix he hadn’t planned on telling you until after the mission. Which may have sounded awful because you were his wife after all. But he just didn’t want you to worry over nothing. However what he didn’t know was that Maverick had called to inform you and that you were on your way up to see him. 

He was in the middle of a conversation with Phoenix, whom he was sharing a room with when he heard familiar tapping of claws in the hallway. Before he could process what exactly that meant Lewis came bolting into the room and jumped onto his bed. Then you came running in behind him. He stared at you with wide eyes as you ran up to him and cupped his face looking him over for injury. 

“Honey, what’re you doing here?” He blinked at you slowly as he started to pet Lewis’ head. 

“Someone named Maverick called, he told me your plane had gone down during an exercise today. I was worried and just needed to see you. I also figured you wouldn’t tell me until you got back home and I couldn’t handle waiting. I need to see with my own eyes that you were alright.” It was a light scolding but he still blushed nonetheless. Then you gave him a soft kiss and stood back up. 

“How’s Michael, Shawn and the babies?” You knew he was changing the subject to avoid you scolding him anymore. But you let him do it anyway. Plus talking about his previous front seater and his new family members would cheer you both up. When Michael’s contract came back up he had decided not to reenlist because he and his husband Shawn were in the process of adopting and it would be an easier transition if Michael was a stay at home dad. 

“They are doing amazing. Michael is slowly adjusting to no longer being in the service, Shawn is glad to have him home. The triplets have been a handful since they picked them up from the hospital. They are all absolutely adorable, especially Robert.” Your smile was bright as you told him a bit more about the family. They had named one of two boys after him.  Then when you stopped talking you finally turned to the other person in the room. She looked terrified when your eyes met her own. 

“You’re Phoenix right? His front seater for this mission?” She glanced between you and Bob and Bob gave her a small nod. 

“Uhm yes. I-I’m really sor-.” But before she could finish her guilt ridden apology you were right next to her bed. 

“Are you okay? Do you need me to call anyone for you?” She choked on air at the way you were now dotting on her. She looked at Bob and he had a wide smile on his face and adoration in his eyes. 

“I’m okay. I called my fiancé already, so she knows I’m okay.” Bob looked sheepish as you both turned to glare at him when she said that. 

“Can I hug you?” You were bouncing on the balls of your feet, you just really felt the need to comfort her.  

“Uh yes.” She stuttered out and then she was wrapped up in your arms. She hadn’t realized she really needed a hug until then. You held her until she let go. 

“Thank you for keeping my husband safe.” You told her after pulling away. As Bob looked at you he loved his truck because it brought him, you. 

A couple of weeks after the mission the dagger Squad were all given the option of moving to Fightertown permanently. They would be their own squad indefinitely. Bob had asked you immediately what your thoughts were. He wasn’t sure you’d go for it since your life was in Lemoore. But you assured him you’d love to move there if he would. Because he didn’t have a front seater in Lemoore. Plus from what he had told you the rest of the Dagger Squad worked beautifully together once they got over bad blood. 

So you guys took a couple weeks to pack up then you were heading off to Fightertown. You had your bees in the bed of the truck, a whole bunch of things in the U-Haul hitched to the truck. All the bigger items had been picked up by the navy movers. You’d decided to sell your junk ass car to Shawn who was gonna fix it up and sell it at his shop. You’d also promised to come back and visit them often, as well as your friends and family that lived there. Selling your house in Lemoore and buying a house with plenty of land in Fightertown had been surprisingly easy. 

“Lewis is gonna have quite the time getting to know everyone and getting allocated to a new home. You said that Mav’s girlfriend has a dog right?” The only part of this you were nervous about was Lewis. Since you’d had him you’d only ever lived in one place. He had made friends at your local dog park as well as other dogs that had been in your service dog training courses. 

“Yea, his name is Theo. I think they’ll get along great. Plus I think Lewis will love Paybacks kids. We could also go to one of the shelters in town and find him a friend.” Bob had been doing a search for another dog already but he just hadn’t told you. He’d even found a dog that you guys could go and pick up in a week. She was a pitbull lab mix that had been surrendered by her previous owners because they were moving and claimed they couldn’t take her with them. Funnily enough her name was Bee, which Bob thought you would absolutely adore. 

You started to excitedly rant about how amazing it would be to get another dog. Then about how excited you were to meet everyone. Bob glanced at you and saw the way the sun was shining through the window on your face. You looked like a dream and Bob couldn’t help but love that his truck was taking you both to a future that held so many possibilities for the both of you. 

Bob didn’t really understand what had gotten into you but you just couldn’t seem to keep your hands off him. You’d had dinner with Phoenix and her fiancé which had become a regular occurrence. Phoenix and her fiancé had taken extreme care in the food they prepared so you hadn’t worried about bringing Lewis and Bee. Your eyes however hadn’t left his form all night. Every time he’d glance at you he’d find your eyes already glued to him. When you were saying goodbye to the duo you’d made it quick and were dragging Bob out of their house.  

Now here you were with a hand down his pants slowly stroking his cock and sucking bruises into the skin of his neck. He was concentrating very hard on keeping control of the truck on the road. You weren’t very far from your house which he was grateful for. He let out a low moan as you ran your thumb along the tip of his cock and gathered the precum that was leaking from it. 

“Honey.” He muttered out, you nipped at his neck gently before pulling away and looking at him with lust filled eyes. He groaned as he took in the sight of your swollen lips. 

“We’re almost home Bob, just pay attention to the road.” So that’s what he did: he kept both hands on the steering wheel and both eyes on the road as you resumed your assault on his neck. Your hand continued to slowly pump his cock, your thumb brushing the tip every so often. A low moan would leave his lips every time. 

When he turned onto the long gravel driveway lined by trees that lead back to your house your hand slipped out of his pants, you unbuckled your seat belt and positioned yourself so you were kneeling on the seat. You worked quickly to unzip his pants and pull his boxers down enough to slip his cock free. Your hand then was replaced by your lips and he couldn’t help himself as one of his hands left the steering wheel and found its way into your hair. He helped guide you up and down his length. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat before pulling up and going back down. 

The truck came to a stop as he rolled up to the front of the house and his hand left your hair to shift it into park. He fumbled to snatch the keys out and slip them into his pocket. His head tipped back as your tongue swirled around his tip. He muttered your name quietly, not really sure what he was asking for. He felt himself getting close but he wasn’t ready for this to be over just yet so he gently guided your mouth away from his cock. When you were sitting up his lips met your own in a rushed pace, he was eager to taste your lips and moaned at the taste of him on your tongue as you slipped it passed his lips. 

“Bob, please.” The request was a whisper on your lips as you pulled away. He knew what you were asking for without you needing to say anything. 

“Take off your pants honey.” He slipped his cock back into his underwear but kept his pants unzipped. He fumbled while opening his door before stumbling out and watching with hooded eyes as you maneuvered out of your shoes and pants and threw them on the floor of the truck. 

He took a second to take in how pretty you looked, your hair a mess, lips swollen, a wet patch forming on your underwear from how aroused you were. The look of complete lust on your face had his control slipping. He grabbed both of your ankles and yanked your body toward him. Your ass was on the edge of the seat.  His hands found your panties and slipped them down your legs and tucked them into the pocket of his jeans. You were practically vibrating in anticipation as you waited for him to make a move. 

Right as you opened your mouth to beg for his touch he was on you. His tongue slipped between your folds, one of your hands shot for his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as a loud moan left your mouth. He was bent over at the hips and his knees were slightly bent but he didn’t care that he’d probably wake up a bit sore from the awkward angle. All he cared about was that you tasted sweeter than the slice of cheesecake you’d shared for dessert. Really you tasted better than anything he could ever imagine. So he told you so, pulling his mouth away he replaced his tongue with his fingers, slipping them in and out of you languidly. 

“Fuck honey, you taste sweeter than anything I’ve ever had before.” He sucked a bruise into your thigh leaving a feather light kiss over it. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever find anything sweeter than you. Love you so much. ” He sucked a bruise into the inside of your other thigh, running his tongue over the skin to soothe it. You weren’t sure if the cry of his name leaving your lips was because of the words he was whispering or because of the way his mouth found its way back to your cunt. His lips found your clit and sucked on it delicately. His fingers curled and found that spot in you that had you letting out a mumbled string of curses. 

“Bobby, feels so good.” You whined as his tongue flicked your clit. “So close, I-I-I’m so close.” The words were barely making any sense but you hoped he understood. Your fingers that were still in his hair gripped tighter and with one more curl of his fingers you hit your climax and felt like you were flying, your hips had a mind of their own as they bucked against his face. Your legs tightened around his head and he took his time cleaning up every drop of cum you’d given him. 

When your legs finally relaxed, your hand leaving his head he pulled away and gave you a soft smile. Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He rubbed soothing circles on your thighs with his thumbs and was about to suggest going inside before you whined a request at him. 

“Need you inside me.” You sounded utterly spent but who was he to deny you what you wanted. So he pulled his aching cock out of his boxers, situated himself at your entrance and as your legs wrapped around him he sunk into you. You both let out equally blissed moans as you settled into the feeling of euphoria. 

“You feel so fucking tight honey.” His country drawl was thick as he groaned out the words. His hair was sticking up all over the place and his glasses were crooked, his lips and chin were still wet with your arousal and suddenly you couldn’t stand being so far from him so you quickly sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck. He wrapped his own around your thighs and pulled you out of the truck. You were thankful you’d kept your shirt on as he leaned you against the side of the truck all while staying seated inside you.  

“Gonna move now.” He whispered to you before burying his face in your neck. He pulled himself almost all the way out and then thrust back in. It didn’t take him long to find a steady rhythm that felt good for the both of you. Your clit was getting a delightful friction everytime he moved and you were squeezing around him in a way that made him feel a little dizzy. 

“Bob, Bob.” His name fell from your lips like a prayer and the glasses wearing aviator almost fell to his knees as you slipped a hand into his hair and brought his lips to your own. They meshed together in a familiar dance, soft and practiced, yet still taking his breath away like the first time you’d kissed. His hands were squeezing your thighs as your tongues met each other and he swallowed the moan you let out as his thrusts began to stutter. 

His lungs needed to fill back up with air so he pulled away from your lips, nipping the bottom one with his teeth as he went. A whine left you at the loss of him. But he soothed you with sweet nothings as he got closer and closer to his climax. His forehead rested against yours. 

“Honey. I’m gonna, oh fuck, I’m gonna.” He could barely get the words out, but he wanted you to cum first. He was already so close from the edging you’d given him on the way home. 

“I’m close bob, m’gonna cum. Wanna feel you cum.” Your words were breathy and sounded like a plea. Your walls squeezed around him and he couldn’t stop it as his orgasm ripped through him. Your own following soon after. The both of you stood wrapped in each other's arms for a few moments, soaking in the feeling of being with one another.

The barking of your dogs from inside had you finally separating. Bob hissed slightly as he pulled out of you. He reached inside the truck and grabbed your pants and shoes before closing the door of the truck and walking you up to the porch. He set you down and let you slip your pants back on and take your shoes. Then you slipped the keys out of his pocket and opened the door. He turned and looked back, one thought in his mind as he shut the door behind him, he really loved that truck.

A/N: Thank you so so so so so much for being so patient while I got this done. I had such an amazing time writing this! Might've been just what I needed to get back into the groove of writing!

Taglist: @wkndwlff @sylviebell @kmc1989 @teacupsandtopgun @eternallyvenus @loving-and-dreaming

[dailyrothko]

ik its taboo to ask but, what do you see in rothkos work? Why do you like it?

It's not taboo! But I have answered this many times before so, I might direct you here or here for random examples of my answers and just add a bit, perhaps retreading...

Rothko gets singled out for being famous and looking simple (though it's not not) but I don't feel the criteria is different than it would be for any other artist.

My favorite artists, Munch, Bearden, Hokusai, Bill Traylor, Ruth Asawa etc., what do they have in common? Just the basics of form, color and light and the emotion that is carried through them.

I don't feel like the public always has great taste but I do subscribe to the idea that Rothko would not have endured if his work did not have meaning to some. And some of those people were Joan Mitchell, Brice Marden, Helen Frankenthaler, Motherwell, Pollock, Elaine De Kooning, Tracey Emin, Robert Ryman etc. Other fine artists blown away by these seemingly simplistic works. This doesn't mean you have like Rothko or any artist but you know here we are the the Rothko detractors kind of amuse me, not for their taste but rather for their arguments.

I think a lot of people just aren't exposed in person to a wide variety of art and when you see things in the flesh, so to speak, it's a wildly different experience than the world of looking at computers. And art museums are also places people react to thinks as a group and it's an interesting footnote to see how art affects people, sometimes it can make you think.

I have devoted so much to time to Rothko, sometimes I have asked myself why, maybe he's not as good as I think, I see them everyday, it can be tiring to research and post and be involved with it.

And then, I see one again or, as in the last two weeks, I see shots from the Paris show (I couldn't afford to go but they did invite me) and again I am struck by what a really exceptional artist he was. How no one else does what he does and how I have a great feeling for his particular expression.

And Rothko the person, who could bloviate occasionally, was an exceptional character of great dedication to art and to his idea. I have known lots of artists and his intense commitment to an idea, that was not popular, that was not making him money, that had not been done before, was a relentless pursuit. I admire that too.

Detractors would have to you believe silly things about art, embarrassing things not seated in the normal "Does nothing for me" argument which is a great argument about any artist. Rather they want to say it's the emperor's new clothes and frankly, while that's cool if you believe it, the technical merit argument is so hollow and silly, I never even know what to say to these people. The reductive standard is basically the best painting of a cat is the one that looks the most like a cat, and if you believe that, buy a camera and save yourself some money.

Even yesterday with the Christie's sale, and the orange/yellow Rothko, which is certainly not one of my favorites, Photographer Mark Cashion (thanks Mark) sent me this shot. And I was just impressed again, kind of in the opposite way that his detractors feel. They see someone doing nothing and I see someone creating a huge amount from very little.

Thank you so much for the question , sorry, as always to prattle on.

[ashisgreedy]

Garreth's Gareer AU HCs

Written By @finalgirllx and @greedyforgarreth simultaneously.

Headcannon's of Garreth Weasley in different careers! 

(These start out serious but we became delirious over time writing this. They devolve into… well, you will see.)

This was not edited. Cheers!

Baker

"Weasley's Confections"

He comes home smelling like sugar every day

He always has flour or frosting in his hair

He'd always bring home a sweet for you

He'd write your names on the little sweets

He's always brainstorming new cake-decorating ideas

He'd always try out new flavor combinations, leading to a very messy kitchen!

He has his own frosting line

during the holidays he has you come and assist him in helping customers in his little shop

During Christmas, you and he dress up as Mr. and Mrs. Claus to decorate cookies with kids

He holds a cake-baking class every once in a while for the community

Chef

He’s a personal caterer, with a small team

He puts on a little show as he cooks for small parties

He has signature dishes he makes that are unique to his catering business

He definitely has a roster of corny jokes for the occasion 

His favorite clients are small bachelorette parties and groups of older ladies because he loves how energetic they are and they laugh at his corny jokes.

Unbuttons his chefs coat throughout the evening for bachelorette parties 

“I'm having a pasta-tively great time”

He would have a volunteer come up for silly demonstrations - how to crack an egg

He hosts his own booth at food festivals to help market is personal business 

Zookeeper 

Robert Irwin vibes - Always educating people on animals

He loves helping with the petting zoos! 

Passionate about preservation of the species and holds educational classes for nearby schools. 

His favorite animal would be an iguana 

He definitely gives away stuffed animals from the gift shop! 

Wears a khaki uniform at all times in the zoo

When he’s not in that - he’s in animal patterns and Hawaiian shirts.

As a side hobby, he surfs to raise money for ocean animals

He’d definitely buy environmentally friendly items at all times

Airline pilot 

Mile high club a million times

Has dated all the stewardesses

Has a mask kink.

Falls asleep almost immediately after the plane takes off

“GARRETH! THE PLANE HAS BEEN TAKEN OVER!” 

Yoga Instructor

Holds instructional classes for business people during their lunch hour.

He’s insanely flexible, and shows it off

Knows his butt gets a lot of attendees

He wears silly headbands

Specializes in Hot Yoga classes

Would have the corniest playlist

His best friend Leander is the Zumba instructor 

He also teaches the occasional water aerobics 

Takes his yoga knowledge into the bedroom 

Wedding planner (morally corrupt)

Really pays attention to the needs of the fiancees…wink

Makes sure to attach his personal cell phone..wink

“Does he know what colors you’d like for the wedding? Or does he not listen to you as well as I could…” wink

Turns cake tasting erotic, feeding the fiancee a cake bite in front of her fiance… wink

He helps put the garter on the bride, slowly… wink

He offers you private dance lessons before the big day…wink 

Ruins your dress before the husband gets the chance…wink 

Shows you the ring he would have gotten for you instead (It’s much better).

Actually listens to you (unlike your fiance)...wink 

Firefighter 

You met when he carried you out of a burning building..sexily 

He saves your kitten and gives it an oxygen mask until it’s lively again.

He pushes you out of the way of a falling burning ceiling 

He lets you wear his helmet to calm you down. (He tells you how silly you look and it helps)

He single-handedly prevented a train collision and explosion in the center of the city 

Sexy arms, covered in soot, and he takes off his jacket and you lick him up 

He’s the one that carries the massive axe that busts through walls. 

"Is this the firehouse? Because you've got me feeling the heat."

Him sliding down the pole during an emergency *Eyes emoji*

Massage therapist 

His massages take ages because he makes sure to work out EVERY knot you have before you get off his table. 

“Oh my dear, you sure are a little tense, aren’t you? Let’s fix that.” 

Love the hot rocks, “ooh, a little hot” whenever he uses them

He gives all kinds of facials for his dedicated clients 

If you get really, really horny during the massage, he says he’ll give you a “happy ending” but really it's just a clap of his hands and a smile.

He plays “Happy” by Pharell Williams at the end of every massage

Sometimes he’ll offer a bonus technique where he steps on the client 

His spa music is just hip hop and rap songs turned into gentle melodies. 

Detective 

The clue is in your panties~

If you’re a threesome, he and the other suggest “split up and look for clues” aka your holes. 

When he’s feeling goofy he’ll bring a magnifying glass to your pussy. “I don’t need this, I already know where the clit is!” 

The hat stays on during sex.

Handcuffs. Nuff said.

He makes the outline of a body on the floor with painters tape and fucks you in that position. 

He asks you questions during sex like “Where were you at 11:34 PM Monday evening?” “Do you have an alibi?” “What crimes have you committed?” “Can you please state your full name and contact information?” “Your childhood street address?” 

He makes you hold his badge up to him during sex.

He smokes his cigar after. 

Lifeguard 

Diving into that… wink.

Speedos all day, every day.

He is super happy to carry a whistle with him all day.

He would’ve saved Ash that one time. 

He wouldn’t have let finalgirllx fall into that lake on her bike. 

He smells like coconut from the sunscreen

Sand *everywhere* “Got some sandy buttcheeks there!” 

When he runs, his pecs bounce.

Really enjoys the maritime accuracy of Spongebob Squarepants 

Very proud of his CPR certification. 

Driving instructor 

Bends you over the seat and fucks you to make sure the leather of the seat cushion is durable. 

Makes you sit on his lap and it causes the horn to honk. He doesn’t mind <3

“I wanna ride.”

Pretends to honk the horn, but really he’s just squeezing your breasts. 

Fingers you while you parallel park to make sure you really know what you're doing. 

“Red means stop, green means go.” But this is your safe word instead. 

Is very passionate about turn signals and will yell at you if you forget to use it. Drivers safety biotch

"Do you believe in love at first drive, or should I take you for another spin?"

Kindergarten teacher 

Fucks all the single moms. 

He is excellent with kids and really enjoys providing them a foundation for a bright future ahead of them.

Has a breaking and entering kink. 

His favorite craft to do with the children is making flowers out of tissue paper. He loves seeing the look on the parent's faces when they gift it. 

Has a mask kink. 

“Baby Shark” is banned from the classroom. 

Enjoys macaroni art. 

He has a talking stick that he’s very strict about using.

Loves having the students draw him and he puts every single one on the walls of the classroom.

Meteorologist 

There are lots of memes of him online. 

“It’ll be wet out this evening, and I’m not just talking about you, ladies.” Gets fired immediately

Becomes an at home meteorologist that says suggestive things about the news on his lives. 

More popular than any news station in the entire world. 

Part times as a camboy. Uses the same channel. 

Sticks his ass out a bit when he points to the green screen. That he somehow has one at his house. 

Instagram polls asking what he should wear during his next live. 

“It’s gonna be cold, ladies! Don’t wear your bras!” …wink 

His camboy name is “Weather Boy” and he makes people call him that professionally as well. 

The front of his business card is for meteorology and the back is his camboy persona.

Musician 

Very good with his fingers. 

The Weasley Wigouts - his band name!

Picks a new genre for every album, he likes to switch it up. Makes for some very confusing tours. 

Tongue piercing.

Has a tramp stamp tattoo on his lower back of Professor Sharp. 

Got his start on Soundcloud. 

Calls his fangirls his “Weasley Sluts!” 

Orders Subway for lunch for the band every day. 

Grew his hair out longer so he can headbang with it, even during soft songs. 

Manbun Garreth era! 

Science teacher 

Really looks up to Bill Nye. 

Wears a lab coat everywhere. 

Always flirts with the math teachers. 

Loves the volcano experiments more than anything. 

He gets wayyyy too hyped about the science fair. “It’s next week! Don’t forget!” and the students groan.

Always has granola bars and hot chocolate stocked in case any student is hungry.

Never sends any of his students to detention. He takes them aside and just says “Come on, man…” 

When teaching a chapter on biology and reproduction, he yells at the students to “AVERT YOUR EYES!” and dramatically covers his own. 

"What did the biologist wear to impress their date? Designer genes!"

Has a tattoo on his chest that says “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

Voice over artist 

Gets his start in English dubs of hentai. 

He has a small role as an NPC in Hogwarts Legacy. Guess who! 

Loves voice acting for the Elder Scrolls series. 

Will do raps for his fans on live, as much as 15 songs. 

Can sing and has a small youtube video with cover songs he loves. 

His most popular cover is of “Sugar, We’re Going Down,” by Fall Out Boy. 

Treats BookTok to sexy ASMR from time to time. 

Florist

Knows all the meanings to all the flowers in his shop.

Wants to fuck you on a flower bed. 

Really loves blue flowers (I don’t know the names of flowers).

He obsesses over flower arrangements and makes them look perfect! 

Always has dirt on his face and under his nails. 

"If kisses were petals, I'd give you a garden."

Has a mask kink. 

Will arrange all of the flowers for his own wedding. 

Loves to roleplay as Ghostface with his partner. 

Always smells fantastic. 

Likes to put a flower behind his ear when he’s working.

[senka-mesecine]

Could you maybe write a one shot for when Barnes circles back to the world, and his significant other drags him out on a date? Not in a mean way, just to force him to get out, maybe like a fair or a bar etc… thank u!

So Scared of You (They're Scared of Me Too).

Robert Barnes x Reader

-

Don't be needin' nothin' but you.

He said that once, and like with all truly important things carrying emotional weight and gravitas of meaning, Bob had the tendency to say them one time only and expect you to remember them because he didn't intend on repeating himself.

The mistake was wholly on you as a result, you supposed, for not taking him as literally as you should, sitting in the corner of the dimly lit bar, all in your own space, just the two of you, voices are low and hushed, eyes occasionally carefully fluttering beneath lashes like people intended to take a peek and look but weren't certain if they dared or if they even should; it was the scar they were staring at, you knew that. He knew that too. In spite of that, you figured you two couldn't just be cooped up in the hills in the cabin forever. You had to come out sometime, even if it was once in a blue moon to the degree the stories spinning around you were as wild as they come. Barnes living up in the hills. Barnes' keepin' her hostage. And you loved him. That much was not gossip. Loved him so much you never wanted him to think you felt shame being seen with him. He was your Bob when he left and he was your Bob now that he came back. You wouldn't change a thing about him except maybe have him understand that he was a part of the world; not perpetually at war with it. He needed to need more than you. Wasn't healthy for him to be nothing but your watchdog. At least a drink on the weekends. A date. The occasional round of poker with the boys, you think, hopeful once the barman approaches entirely on his own accord, fidgety and nervous, but oh so willing to accommodate just judging off of his smile. -"Hey, that's alright, Bob."- He points his nose at the half-emptied bourbon bottle on the table, going for a first name basis to maintain an air of friendliness and hospitality.

You wouldn't say Bob goes to reach for his wallet but his shoulders move by about an inch like he was meaning to, eyeing the man from his dark corner. -"You ain't gotta pay. On the house!"- The owner rubs his hands with his back slightly bent like he was overly eager to please and deliberately making himself small. This was the opposite treatment of a disgruntled veteran being spat on on the street. You knew, they were too scared to take Barnes' money for the cheque. He sat there, legs spread, arm resting on his knee and cigarette in his mouth like he knew. Like he was eating all of it up in silence.

That wouldn't do.

Normalcy; a semblance of it. That was your goal.

-"That's so nice, but you really don't have to ---"-

You protest with a smile only to be cut off before mid-sentence.

-"No, no, I insist, ma'am."-

Is all the man says before practically scurrying off somewhere behind the bar riddled with the backs of the quiet patrons planted on their respective barstools sipping their drinks that occasionally threw a quick glance in your general direction like they were trying to guess the topic of that brief conversation that just happened. Bob looks at you through the haze of smoke veiling his face. Hooded eyes, it was like he was goading someone into something, knowing fully well everyone was too chickenshit to do as much as properly look this way. Like he was taunting you, from the corner of his lips and quietly supporting the barman for rejecting your offer. Serves you right, his eyes say. He ain't listenin' to you. He's listenin' to me and I ain't even say 'nun to him. You could hear his drawl in your mind loud and clear, as if though the words were actually uttered by his own mouth and not merely imagined. Even the boys at the billiard table occasionally turning their attention to the old TV on the wall were playing in complete and utter silence, the only sound heard was the occasional cold click of the balls crashing into each other or the thud as they rolled into their hole. A needle could drop somewhere on the floor and the sound would resound like a bomb right about now. Would be heard from here to Nashville at this point.

Cocky.

He was inaudibly cocky.

-"You're enjoying this, Robert."-

You whisper to him, not unkindly, but more as a remark of the real state of things as he downs the last of his liquor, his eyes never leaving you. Don't be needin' nothin' but you, his words slither back into your head unbidden. Why were you surprised if he wasn't here being a social butterfly? He did tell you, fair and square where his mind was at and openly and all you had to do is listen and all you could do is impart a look back at him, a soft one, one you knew he'd understand; one that meant to say Pay that man at least, please, for me? Once his glass cup is empty and the butt of his cigarette crushed in a nearby metal ashtray that's seen better days, he reaches into his back pocket fishing out a couple of bills and tossing them on the table idly, grazing you with a stare; your cue to leave as you push out the table adorned with seating benches eclipsed by two walls and a corner following him; on the way out, you feel eyes follow you like so many hornets; leisurely walk, the floorboard creaks under Bob who was talking his sweet time like he relished how tense the air and the atmosphere around him was, halting just once to look at a man looking at you causing something in your stomach to coil and lurch. The man's face darts to the side quickly and you're just as swift to entwine your arm with Bob's crossing the threshold and out in the first air on the patio. Thank god. You knew this was all your idea in the first place, but thank god.

-"They're so scared of you they're scared of me too."-

You exhale, whispering, stating the obvious.

-"They parted like the red sea."-

You add once he says nothing.

Your own words sounding almost humorous in your own ears.

Bob really intended to play into this, huh?

The fact that folk around here viewed him like he was The Tennessee Wildman or Bigfoot in person cooped up in a house high up in the woods ever since he came home from Vietnam and that they could barely maintain eye contact with his general direction for more than five seconds out of fear for their own lives; as a result, on the rare occasion they did see you, they flat out averted their gaze around you like you were the Sasquatch's wife and that there would be hell to pay if they did as much as contemplate you. He really wasn't going to dispel anyone's notions of him? He was going to take their opinions, play into them and wholly expand them, wasn't he? Once you're alone in the dark next to the parked pick up truck away from the light reflected through the bar's windows, you feel his hand on your buttock, squeezing your backside and leaning his head down to speak against the center of your scalp, your body trapped between him and the door of the vehicle. His breath is hot on you. The moon was shrouded in a veil of mist above the tree line and you swear to god, a lone dog could bark from somewhere in the neighborhood and judging how quiet everyone was in that bar even now, you could envision them all jumping in their seats from how high strung they seemed when you left them.

-"You're enjoyin' this too, darlin'."-

Is all he says.

Your cheeks flare up.

You hated to admit he was right.

[racefortheironthrone]

Not sure if this is something that would be interesting for you to answer, but do you think there is any way a slave revolt at some point early on (or just before the civil war) could’ve established some kind of break away nation in the south? There’s so much emphasis on edge lord “what if the bad guys win!” type stuff that I’ve tried pondering this but I’m not sure if it would be possible. Do you think this could’ve been done with the right “here’s money to look the other way big northern business and political people?” Or would it always be doomed to fail because even if luck broke the revolt/revolutions way against the whole south the north would just send an army to quash it because most white northerners would still be upset white people were dieing/that part of the country was “being taken away.”

Ah, the dream of self-determination in the Black Belt...

So if we're talking sometime close to the Civil War, what we're really talking about is the John Brown scenario, whereby a state for freedmen would be established in the hill country of Appalachia. I think the problem is that, even had John Brown's raid on Harper's Ferry not gone awry so quickly (and had he had a more realistic number of soldiers), the speed at which a U.S military dominated by Southerners like Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson as well as multiple state militias mobilized to suppress the revolt speaks to how well-developed the American system of repressing slave revolts had become in the 19th century.

If we're talking earlier, then I think you do have some historical examples in the form of maroon communities like the Black Seminoles in Florida or the Great Dismal Swamp in Virginia and North Carolina, although there you're talking about runaways rather than a slave revolt. The problem as I see it is that you're combining the practical difficulties of carrying off a slave revolt - which always, always, always faced massive state repression - with the difficulties of maintaining an independent state in the face of American imperialism.

For example, the Black Seminoles were able to prosper in Florida because it was a Spanish colony and the Spanish had a policy of providing refuge to runaway slaves as a measure to destabilize the English and eventually Americans to their north - however, the existence of an armed native/freedmen state just on the other side of the Georgia state line prompted Andrew Jackson to launch a series of "punitive expeditions" that forced Spain to hand over Florida to the United States, which allowed him to bring in the U.S military to try to force the Seminoles into reservations and then try to remove them to Oklahoma. The Seminoles effectively used guerilla tactics to resist the U.S military for some time, but when they bring in 30,000 troops and use starvation tactics, they were absolutely decimated.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

what was his first birthday like without Maria??? What did he and little Belle do ? and what do they do as time went on?? Did he ever forget it was his birthday because no one was there to remind him when Belle was little????

maurice’s first birthday without maria was… basically nonexistent. those first few years were really blurry and just :(( not great. he was pretty much dissociated most of the time, and really only paid attention to belle and any work he tried to do to get money so he could support belle. everything was about his baby girl, because maria asked him to save her.

i don’t think he really noticed that it even Was his birthday. belle was nine months old and thriving and maurice was figuring out the whole farming thing best he could. he hadn’t made any art since paris. (i headcanon that this depressive episode leads to like, at least two-three years of artist’s block. which SUCKS because it always came so naturally to him. so he’s lost because of that, on top of everything else.)

i think that first birthday in villeneuve came and went without a single thought. and yeah, no one in the village knew, not even his new friend père robert, so no one was wishing him a happy birthday. honestly i don’t think he noticed until maybe some days later. maybe he heard someone mention the day’s date, and he had a moment of clarity that his birthday was four days ago. but that of course sends him into another bout of sadness, because it just makes him think of last year…

BUT LET’S JUMP A BIT FORWARD IN TIME NOW, SHALL WE? 🫠

as time carried on, birthdays did get a tad bit easier. eventually père robert of course learned his friend’s birthday, as well as the handful of other people in the village who don’t SUCK, so he started getting more well wishes on the day. and as belle grew up, and learned about birthdays, she LOVED celebrating her papa!! she started making special crafts for him, as well as ALWAYS picking a bouquet of wildflowers for him. (and maurice would take them and put some in her hair and some in his hair and belle always laughs !!)

as belle gets older, i think she really likes to cook & bake things for him. she inherited his love language of making food for your loved ones. i have a cute idea about her making something for him on his 50th birthday, when she’s almost ten, i’ll see if i can get it written 👀 but it’s Very Cute. [EDIT: i did write it!!] but anyway yeah she always likes to make breakfast for him on his birthday, as well as bake him a blueberry pie (his favorite!!). they also pick up a tradition of having maurice’s birthday dinner at père robert’s house. sometimes it’s just the three of them, but i think it started one year when père robert’s sisters (and their families) were visiting. so he thought his friend could use some familial comradery on his birthday. and maurice did very much appreciate it :”)

overall, maurice doesn’t care Too Much about his birthday, but he’s always appreciative when the people who love him make him feel extra special 🥹

[scotianostra]

On June 11th 1488 the Battle of Sauchieburn took place.

Originally, the battle was referred to as either Stirling Bridge or Bannockburn, but as these names have been given to rather more famous conflicts, it has been called Sauchieburn since 1655.  

Sauchieburn was fought at the foot of Castle Hill, a mighty crag topped with the fortress of Stirling Castle, that has been the key to the control of Scotland throughout the ages. The armies drawn up on 11th June 1488 would have been well aware of the location’s strategic importance.

The battle was the culmination of a long period of discontent with James III, King of Scots, since he was eight years old, James was unpopular with his nobles, his whole extended family, and even his wife, although the late Queen, Margaret of Denmark, had done much to maintain relationships with his earls and barons during her lifetime.

  The rebels had named the king’s son, Prince James,  Duke of Rothesay, as there figurehead, but he probably didn’t take to the battlefield.

James III had faced rebellion for months, with a complicated series of events leading to Sauchieburn.  Details of the battle itself are sketchy, there is more about the lead up than the battle itself.

  In May, James crossed the river Forth to use Blackness as a base, with the prince at Linlithgow. However, attempts to reach the young James there were repelled in a small skirmish, and the king was forced back to Blackness, from where he fled, leaving behind those he had given as hostages to the rebels.

  By the 16th of May he was in Edinburgh, and began spreading money around to raise supporters, including to his half uncle, John Stewart, 1st Earl of Atholl. At this point the rebels were geographically split, some at Stirling, some at Linlithgow. James again took the initiative with a sudden move over to Fife with his supporters and their men, advancing on Stirling, where on the 10th of June he took the rebels by surprise, driving them southwards. This left James with the town of Stirling, perhaps not the castle, from where he advanced on the 11th of June to meet the combined forces of the rebels driven from Stirling and those who had come from Linlithgow in support.

As I said there are no concrete details of the battle, but sources say James III fled, some say he was thrown by his horse. Nobody really knows for certain, but at some point he was slain, tradition says by someone dressed as priest, although some historians have dismissed this version of events, other stories mention his horse threw the King during the battle, and James was either killed in the fall, or was finished off by enemy soldiers, so three differing versions exist.  An interesting fact is that the King carried  the sword of Robert the Bruce into battle. The next day the King’s body was found. The official enquiry into the King’s death, held by James IV’s first Parliament in October (almost the only indication that the battle actually took place) merely commented that James III “ happinit to be slayn" and that

“oure soverane lord that now is and the trew lordis and barouns that wes withe him in the samyne feild war innocent, quhyt and fre of the saidis slauchteris feilde and all persute of the occasioune and cause of the samyne’.

Two weeks after the battle, James III was interred at Cambuskenneth Abbey, at the side of his wife, Margaret of Denmark.

For the rest of his life James IV wore a heavy iron chain around his waist, next to the skin, as a constant reminder of his role in the death of his father.

Pics are painting, thought to be of the battle, James III and his grave, although the original was destroyed by the religious zealots during the Reformation, the one in the pic was paid for by Queen Victoria.

[flintsdragon]

it started out with a song!!!

I've yet to see the broadway revival of merrily we roll along (although I desperately need to) but I have watched the first production of the show that Maria Friedman directed in the west end several times (shoutout @dolorianpolymath for insisting that I do like five years ago now??) I am still manifesting a New York trip where I see this show before it closes, but in lieu of that, the announcement of the revival cast recording was the most exciting news I've heard in a while. this is the first time I've had a chance to really sit down and listen (with my copy of Finishing The Hat by my side) so im going to ramble about how I feel about the whole thing now:

overture

like the rest of the show, this has been a profoundly overlooked. overture, its jazzy, it sets you so perfectly in the eras of the show, it makes me cry, needless to say it could've kept on going! gimme just the orchestrations of the entire show and I would enjoy it just as much <3

HEY WHERE THE FUCK IS THE HILLS OF TOMORROW

since when is "may we come to trust the dreams we must fulfill" irrelevant to the show???

merrily we roll along

this narrative device that is literally directly lifted from the ancient greeks that people decided was too confusing in the 80's. sounds like they're looking us directly in the eyes saying "I guess it made sense the whole fucking time, didn't it?"

that frank

feels like an audio play more than a modern cast recording. much more interested in carrying you through the show than being like "Hey guys look Lindsay Mendez is here! There's Jonathan Groff!" character/plot centric over celebrity boasting.

old friends-- like it was

old friends is a top tier Sondheim song of all time. on top of being really fun, it perfectly canonizes this relationship dynamic in a way you can apply to any story. Case in point, I made a letterboxd list about it earlier this year!

Trouble is Charlie, that's what everyone does, blames the way it is on the way it was. on the way it never, ever was.

and like it was really fucking gets to me, it gets to me more and more every year. the brutal underbelly of nostalgia, amirite ladies?!!

Franklin shephard inc.

"Listen- Frank does the money thing very well, but you know what, other people do it better. And Frank does the music thing very well, and you know what, no one does it better."

tour du force from Radcliffe, fucking good for him! what else is there to say! its like the realest song ever. the whole money refrain is really interesting coming from Daniel, because like he's part of a unique group of actors that had their breakout in massively successful franchises and now choose to use their clout to get fun, interesting indie projects made (ie. Kristen Stewart, Elijah Wood, Robert Pattinson post-Twilight, pre-The Batman) Give him a Tony (and give me the video of him in the recording studio)

old friends

its really interesting to see where old friends falls in the plotting of the show, because unlike not a day goes by, we aren't heartbroken by this not reprise reprise because we are starting to understand these characters but we don't fully love them like we will in an hour. so this gets to mainly be fun.

Halfway through listening to the song and trying to formulate an opinion on it I realized that I was literally listening to fucking Jonathan Groff, Daniel Radcliffe and Lindsay Mendez sing Old Friends in a Merrily cast recording and got so happy I could cry. what a gift!!!!

growing up

secret good thing going reprise. capitalism ruins everything! they all want the same thing and they still end up where they end up I can't handle it :(((((( I can't help but feel we don't really need the Gussie stuff. I guess that seeing someone who has no dog in the fight in terms of Frank's soul is an important foil to Charlie and Mary.

third transition

the harmony is so pretty

omg not a day goes by

lets GO Katie Rose Clarke! I've been truly obsessed with this song since I first heard it. It just grabs you by the shoulders and stares in your soul and shakes you around a bit and then it lets you go and you're like holy the fuck where am I. no shade to Katie Rose Clarke (who kills) but Bernadette's version is the only version.

Now You Know

wow this show really moves. we're already at now you know. I guess I have bootleg brain. fun story I saw Lindsay Mendez in Godspell at Circle in the Square like 12 years ago and she scared me when she was running through the audience and high fived me. I'll never ever forget it. Legend behavior always.

every "right" from Groff is iconic lololol

Gussie's opening number

oh Gussie. I don't think she's a horrible character but she's a narrative device. a two and a half dimensional character, to use Sondheim's term. cannot over-emphasize how good Krystal Joy Brown sounds though

It's a Hit!

"If it only even runs a minute, at least it's a wedge"

it's a bop! the most meta-song of the whole show. you love to see it!

fourth transition- the blob part 1

the transition slide is so fucking gorgeous I could listen to it all day.

I initially feel compelled to say the blob is prescient but I know it's not meant to be. It was written by Steven Sondheim in 1980 about the 60s, and it's reflective of how this sect of society has always been and always will be. It feels diminutive and inaccurate to call it prescient.

growing up (reprise)

Gussie's power is that she takes control of the pace of the show. its manic time-traveling nature has to stand still and listen to her every word.

good thing going

"it could've kept on growing, instead of just kept on"

makes me cry before it even starts *bangs my head on the table* the pain in Radcliffe's voice is killing me.

"we want to hear it again"

I truly feel like I'm in a horror film every time I hear this line. It is so fucking brilliant it feels like it must've come from lived experience because how do you even think of something so subtle that feels like such a direct attack on our characters emotional evolution. give in to the encore and you'll never keep on growing.

the blob- part II

the interruptions during the encore are fucking perfect- because its like yeah of course they didn't really want to hear it again- the blob can't know what it really wants that's the whole point! its the blob!

Frank and Charlie singing louder hurts me personally because they don't just want to be heard they want to keep singing together.

fifth transition

the tonal & rhythmic shifts are thrilling- I think it would be fun to sing this at an audition or something lol

Bobby and Jackie and Jack

the Irish jig music is so fucking funny

Both Beth and Gussie are undersung but it's nice that Beth gets to be funny and not just the stereotypical long suffering wife. two and a half dimensional!

not a day goes by (reprise)

I think Mary being literally in love with Frank is realistic but doesn't provide much to the story in the grand scheme of things.

Groff just has one of the most lovely voices on planet earth. they all sound so lovely together.

sixth transition

how did you ever get to be here?

more mournful the more we move backward. real. devastating

Opening Doors

"Russian Tea Room" feels dated without feeling actively offensive? a smart change.

groff's "I saw My Fair Lady/ I sort of enjoyed it" is so fucking funny! I love when line deliveries prove that actors get what lines are fun!

they all have so much chemistry its unreal. this feels like their polygraph test video.

the horns!!! the horns are incredible!

I love "up a tone" it showcases their chemistry instantly

can you imagine being in the room when Lindsay, Jonathan, and Daniel sang together for the first time??? I think I would pass out

seventh transition

a child??????

our time

the decrescendo at the end truly almost killed me. this song makes me so emo already and groff was born to sing it. it got me so bad!

final thoughts

I'm really hoping they're filming a pro-shot because they clearly marketing.the shit. out of it. so why not? its star studded and historical and I would like to see it!!!!

[adoracora-elizabeth]

Valentine's day

Robert was sitting at his desk, trying to write his card. But what was he going to write. This was their first Valentine's day as a married couple. She was upstairs feeding Mary. He knew how hard it was to live here at Downton for her. Far away from her family, in a foreign country. And now she also did not give him an heir. He loved his little girl and didn't mind she was a girl. Of course he had hoped for a boy, just to settle things down, but they both were young and could try another time.

He had to admit, that he started to love spending time with Cora. At first he had gone to her bed just to perform and make sure he did his duty, but over the last year he was starting to grow fond of Cora. She was caring and very loving towards him. Every time he looked in her eyes, he saw her burning love for him and he felt guilty for not loving her back. At least not the way she loved him. He was starting to need her in a way, he had never excepted it. He married Cora for her money, and it was a nice bonus that she was very pretty. He remember his mother's word clearly: "You are only marrying her for her money, she is American and will never be a good countess for you. Make sure you know what you are doing."

Boy had his mother been wrong. The moment Cora stepped in her role as countess she did wonderful. Everybody loved her, and how could you not. She had the sweetest face on earth and knew how to entertain people. She even carried her duties far into her pregnancy. Even when she was overtaken by nausea in the first months, she never had failed to be present.

He looked down at his card again. There were just three words: 'My dearest Cora.'

He was really stuck for words and decided to go out for a walk. "Ra, come." He called his dog, who directly got up and followed, always in for a walk. Ra was a gift from Cora for his birthday 26th birthday. he was a yellow Labrador and followed him everywhere in the house, if it was up to him, he would sleep in Robert's room. But that was one step to far for Robert. So every night Ra was taken to the dog house at the back of the house. Carson handed him his jacket and head. "Thank you." he said, while stepping outside. There was a light breeze, and you could feel that spring was coming, although winter was still waiting around the corner, he knew.

+++

Cora looked out of the window and saw Robert walking down the lawn. He was a handsome man. He was quite tall, she herself was not short, but Robert was taller than she was. His dark brown hair was getting a bit long, she loved how it started to curl up in his neck. She should ask Carson to bring a barber to the house though. In two days they would have their anniversary, she knew he was taking her out for dinner and she wanted him to look the best he could. People in the village loved to judge, she noticed. Although she was greeted with smiles whenever she was in the village, still she felt their eyes on her back, when she walked on.

She looked down in the crib where Mary was sleeping peacefully. She brushed over her hair and bend down to place a kiss on her forehead. "Sleep tight my darling." Cora walked downstairs, it was almost time for tea and she didn't want to be late. Violet would scold her she just knew.

She was halfway down the stairs when Violet's voice sounded. "I thought you would never come down. You spoil that girl too much, she needs to learn to sleep on her own."

"Mama, I was just feeding her." Cora said with red cheeks, from embarrassment, there were a lot of maids listening in. And she saw Carson's disappointed look on his face.

"You need to speed that process up a little bit next time. She needs to be a strong independent woman."

"If Mary is anything like her grandmother, she will be." Robert's voice sounded.

And Cora let out a sigh of relief, now Violet's attention would not only be directed towards her.

"Cora, is taking care of Mary the way she thinks is best." Robert stepped closer to Cora and kissed her on the cheek.

This surprised Cora, he rarely showed her affection in front of his mother. She cherished this brief moment. Cora looked up into Robert's eyes and said without words. "Thank you."

Robert briefly wrapped his arm around her waist. "Always darling." Then he offered her his arm and walked towards the sitting room.

+++

Cora had gone to bed a little bit earlier, she needed to wrap Robert's present for their anniversary. She bought him new slippers, she had seen that the ones he was wearing were getting quite old. She didn't know what else to buy for him. She realised that she didn't know him that well yet. Even though they were married for a year now. He came to her bed quite often, but she wasn't sure if that was out of love, or just lust.

She had decided that she did not care. She was happy, he was coming to her bed and not searching for it somewhere else and giving her some disease. She had heard ladies talk about that during the countless tea parties, Violet dragged her too. It seemed that men didn't have to be faithful, to their wife's. Cora hoped that Robert was faithful to her, it seemed that way.

O'Brien came in the room to help her undress. It was the best time of the day, when she was taken out of her corset. Especially with her, still, heavy breasts it was very painful to wear. During her pregnancy she was allowed to wear a special altered one, but now she was expected to be back in the tight ones. That there was no room for her chest, that did not matter, clearly. She had one moment during the day where she got some relief of her corset, in the early afternoon, she was allowed to take some rest in her room. O'Brien changed her corset for just a bodice during those hours.

"Thank you, O'Brien." Cora said, when she helped her into her nightrobe. She waited for her lady’s maid to leave the room, before picking up the present and hiding it under her side of the bed. Robert would never come there, so it was a safe place. She wondered if he would come to her room tonight. Since Mary was born, he was back in her room more often. During the last months of her pregnancy, he didn't come at all, what had hurt her. She knew it would not have been easy to give him access, with her big belly, but she was sure, there would have been a way.

There was a knock on the door, for a moment she didn't know from which door it was coming from, but then the door between her room and Robert's dressing room opened. And he entered, already changed and wrapped in his nightrobe. She looked at his feet and saw the worn down slippers. She chuckled, she had the perfect gift for him in two days. Then she noticed that he was lingering in the doorway.

"Are you not coming in?" She asked.

Robert hesitated. "Did Mary already have her last feeding?"

Cora nodded. "She will not come for the next couple of hours." She felt embarrassed to talk about these things with Robert. She didn't know why, because he was her husband and knew perfectly well, she was breastfeeding their child. He had even commented on her full breasts. 'I hope you will never stop breastfeeding.' He had murmured one night, while he was playing with one of her breasts. She had understood why he said that. She did not have much, but they had started growing during her pregnancy and he loved that. Sometimes he was a little bit too rough, but she did not tell him, too scared to scare him off.

"Alright." Robert got in and closed the door behind him. He walked around the bed towards Cora's side. This surprised Cora, he never did that. Immediately she was scared she did not push the gift far enough under the bed.

Robert sat down next to her. "Darling, do you know what day it is today?"

Cora's cheeks flushed, it was not the 16th yet, she had checked the date with Mrs. Hughes this morning. What else could be today?

He leaned in and kissed her on the lips. "Hmmm, what did you put on your lips?" He asked.

"Some beeswax, Rosamund brought me the other day."

"I like it. It taste sweet, just like you."

"Oh Robert." In a way, it always hurt Cora when Robert was like this. She never knew if he did this because he cared for her, or because he thought he needed to.

"But, you did not answer my question yet, so I think you do not know what day today is." He paused and took her hand in his. "Today it is the 14th of February, the day of love."

"Valentine's day." Cora breathed out.

"Yes, my dear. Valentine's day. It is our first valentine's day as a married couple." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. He looked over her hand into her eyes.

It hit Cora that there was an unusual look in it. He was looking at her with so much adoration, she had not seen in his eyes over this last year. She saw him reach in his pocket and handed her a card.

There was a little angle on the front, with an arrow in one hand and a heart in the other. "Turn it around." Robert urged her.

Cora turned the card around and read.

'My dearest Cora,

When I look into your eyes, I see a lake, calm and still. When I listen to your voice, I hear the wind rustling through the trees. When I lay next to you in bed, I smell the fresh flowers blooming in the early spring. When you touch my hand, I feel the sun, shining bright. When I kiss your lips, I taste freshly picked berries. You warm my heart, every morning you greet me. You fill my heart, with more love than I could ever imagine. Yours always.

R'

With tears in her eyes, Cora looked up at Robert. "Do you mean that?"

"Oh, my darling Cora." Robert pulled her close. "I do, and I feel stupid for not seeing all this earlier. I love you, my darling."

Cora pulled herself back and looked into his eyes. "Do not say that if you do not mean it."

Robert did not say anything, he took Cora's face in his hands and kissed her passionately. He felt she separated her lips to give him access. The kiss turned into the best one they ever had. They both had to gasp for air when they broke the connection. Robert was still holding her face in his hands. "I cannot wait to see what the future brings for us." He kissed her again, long, and soft.

[omori-sv-au]

Just wanna talk more about the gator guys I Made lol

Fredrick is known to cry laying on the floor before his shift starts and during any breaks. He has done this so consistently(every day since week one) that he has a designated corner so he’s not a tripping hazard. He read through the whole contract and asked questions sure, but he may or may not have thought most of it was ‘if necessary we can’ and not ‘we will’ and didn’t realize until he talked about it with some of the others. He’d probably drop an anvil on the boss if he wasn’t sure it would get him hunted down and likely killed(especially if he survived).

Damascus was your classic jock in high school, literally did every sport she could which is how she ended up able to carry bodies around with relative ease. Volume control and appropriate actions for each scenario are lost on her, it could be a funeral or a birthday party and she will be acting like it’s a concert. Mostly just sucks up to Fern for validation and rare smiles(the gay is strong with this one, but she seriously has no idea how to actually try to make it clear she likes someone nor that it’s not the best to do this). She unofficially has a pet bird, it just flew into her house and refused to leave so now she feeds it and it screams for pets. Might actually not have a contract?? It’s unclear if she just had separate jobs and was supposed to be freelance or if she signed a contract, she can’t remember either, but she still shows up every day as if she does and has no qualms about it.

Fern used to be a ballerina and still carries herself with all the grace of one. She grew up in Vegas so after moving to Far Away the idea of a casino hotel was halfway like being home again(THERE ARE CASINOS IN THE AIR PORTS EVEN, THERE ARE CASINOS IN THE HOTELS.) and it was a familiar job. She wasn’t even phased by the last resort contract, she’s used to ones that are much worse and are probably illegal(the worst was 1 hour a day for 30$ Monday-Sunday… but then you had mandatory 8 unpaid over time every day and they’d keep you there by force if necessary and if you didn’t show up they’d have a group of people go to your home to bring you back) so seeing last resorts’ it was extremely reasonable in comparison- even has health care and dental! One time she walked into work with a mini playground in a case that’s clear and there was a tarantula she picked up on a hike in it eating a cricket because she wanted to test if wild tarantulas can easily adapt to captivity, the day the boss was coming around for a check in was arguably not the best day to do this. She literally does not care about Damascus, but usually uses her affections to convince her to do almost anything(mostly inconvenient day to day things honestly).

The art project that Oliver is working on is a giant sculpture of a pack of velociraptors hunting a few protoceratops, he wants to bring it to an art festival in a few years. He collects light bulbs for it since it’s entirely made of glass and it’s an easy source of glass(especially with how big the hotel is.)

Emmie works at night right? When villain stuff is happening, right? They have on multiple occasions just been in the background fixing a light switch, making sure a vent is functioning, swapping out ac controllers, or mending wires while super important villain stuff is happening. They always listen in and gossip about it if they’re around only other staff.

Robert at this point is considering ‘missing one part’ of a document or really anything so it’s clear that money is coming in due to villain stuff just so he can LEAVE. He wouldn’t but he is definitely thinking about it. Maybe he could burn his contract and get the people he owes favours ors to agree to let him be, and then get out.

Helle is sorta thinking about also getting into the more crime side of last resort out of sheer boredom. He really doesn’t want to give up being able to mess with guests he doesn’t like though, so he’s being careful in his planning of this.

YESSSS YESSSS DUDE IM LITERALLY EATING ALL THIS UP IF U EVER HAVE MORE FEEL FREE TO SEND IT IN I LOVE UR GATOR GUYS SM

FIRST OF ALL FREDRICK IS GOING THROUGH IT HELLO????? BRO CRIES EVERY SHIFT???? being a gator guy is not easy………. poor dude i also wish i could drop an anvil on hero

DAMASCUS STRONG WOMAN HELL YEA!!!!!! she is so based and silly omg……… and gay which makes her MORE based (shes just like me fr)

but omg fern….. yea id bet her job makes her feel at home if shes from vegas LMAOO but omg??? her dynamic with damascus is so interesting……

also holy shit olivers art project sounds actually insane when he brings it to an art show that shit better get all the attention bro is making it out of last resort lightbulbs

EMMIE IS SO SILLY THO….. they get the privilege of seeing what happens at night and then just gets to gossip about it LMAOO thats so funny id probably do the same

and oh my god poor robert holy shit LMAO dude wants OUT so bad…. feel bad for the dude he is not happy at all

also HELLE BRO DO NOT GET INVOLVED WITH THE VILLAIN STUFF…… ITS NOT AS SILLY AS U MIGHT THINK!!!!!

[crinosg]

I'm gonna do this for my PC from the now ended Treasure Island Campaign: Professor Archibald Janus (and Archie), Scholar, college professor, and also path of the berserker barbarian with a Jekyll and Hyde style split personality (The joke being that Robert Louis Stevenson wrote both Treasure Island and the Strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, so for a dndfied version of Treasure Island I was like "fuck it, crossover".)

Professor Janus' drink of choice, being a fantasy Englishman, is a nice stiff Sherry on the rocks. Archie's drink of choice is "anything in arms reach". Dude is not picky.

Professor Janus goes through a very thorough grooming process; showers, stretches, the whole nine yards, it helps keeps his body in tip top shape between rages (IE letting Archie loose.) Even then its not really enough, as I had it in the epilogue that Janus will have to eventually retire since raging puts too much strain on him.

Professor Janus puts his disposable income towards his field research, buying new paper, empty books, quills and ink. scientific tools. He also puts aside a little money for Archie to party with.

As a barbarian Janus has a ton of scars, most of which are hidden under his clothes. He has no tattoos (despite Archie really wanting one, however the pain of trying to get one usually snaps Janus out of it so Archie has never been able to sneak one on).

Professor Janus is by nature reserved,stiff upper lip and all that. Archie probably last cried when Joe Marrow (the friendly NPC who started the whole adventure) died. But that was offscreen if at all. Archie is more likely to get angry than sad at misfortune.

Professor Janus was a middle child of his family, free of the responsibility of inheritance he was able to indulge in academia and eventually becoming an adventurer. Also he has a niece by his younger sibling who followed in his footsteps; Jaqueline Janus (With split personality Heidi).

Professor Janus wears very plain and sensible shoes, made for durability and comfort rather than fashion. Archie wears whatever Janus wears, also occasionally going barefoot with sufficient battle damage to the clothes.

Professor Janus has his own bed which was part of the treasure horde they got from Captan Flint, the big bad of the campaign (who was a Black Dragon masquerading as a dragonborn pirate). Its his prized possession and his preferred place to sleep. Archie is much less picky and will sleep where he drops.

We haven't really worked out the holidays for our campaign world yet. But for real world holidays Professor Janus would be a fan of Guy Fawkes day (He's fantasy British), Archie is down for any holiday which has drinking.

Professor Janus carries a field journal which contains pressed plant life, sketches of various humanoids and monsters, extensive notes on his journeys and other stuff. He also carries a large and heavy cane that doubles as a club, and a battle axe.

So my problem with most ‘get to know your character’ questioneers is that they’re full of questions that just aren’t that important (what color eyes do they have) too hard to answer right away (what is their greatest fear) or are just impossible to answer (what is their favorite movie.)  Like no one has one single favorite movie. And even if they do the answer changes.

If I’m doing this exercise, I want 7-10 questions to get the character feeling real in my head. So I thought I’d share the ones that get me (and my students) good results: 

What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/resturant)

What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private)

What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time)

Do they have any scars or tattoos? (good way to get into literal backstory) 

What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some *emotional* backstory in.) 

Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? (This one might be a me thing, because I LOVE writing/reading about family dynamics, but knowing what kinds of things were ‘normal’ for them growing up is important.)

Describe the shoes they’re wearing. (This is a big catch all, gets into money, taste, practicality, level of wear, level of repair, literally what kind of shoes they require to live their life.)

Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.)

What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.) 

What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.) 

[ivankahasbeentreatedsounfairly]

If you watched any of Donald Trump’s recent rally in Butler, Pa., you probably noticed Elon Musk beside him — jumping, jiving, arms raised, belly bared — and wondered what in the name of Tesla the chronically overstimulated gazillionaire was doing. Impromptu aerobics? A cheerleading audition? Charades?

If only. Musk, I fear, was previewing a second Trump administration — in which Trump would embrace and embolden a crew of self-impressed eccentrics and ideological outliers who are happy, even eager, to make confounding and fawning spectacles of themselves. Consider Musk their spirit animal. Multiply him by about two dozen and you have the Trump cabinet of tomorrow — or an only slightly exaggerated cartoon of it.

Much of the fallout of a Trump victory is unknowable. But this much is certain: Returned to the White House, Trump would get input from — and award key positions to — a bestiary of nihilists, destructionists and even criminals unlike any collection of advisers that any other president assembled. They’d be unscrupulous in all fashions but one: unswerving loyalty to Trump. He fumed about what he saw as a lack of that among his previous cadre of helpmates. The coming coterie would affirm Trump’s worst impulses, nurture his nuttiest ideas and gleefully carry out his orders.

The first time around, Trump cared about impressing the Washington crowd and was fixated on what he believed to be the high I.Q.’s of his department and agency heads. He made them sound like the Incredibles.

I’m not saying that Trump would fail to fill crucial government jobs. If Republicans get very lucky, prevail in most of the closest Senate races and wind up with a three- or four-seat majority in that chamber, he might be able to get its sign-off on a cockapoo as Treasury secretary. Or, worse yet, Jared Kushner. And even without such a majority, Trump could find ways to circumvent Senate involvement and oversight. That would be utterly in character for a president who’d have zero regard for precedent and even less for propriety.

But whatever the legislative arithmetic, I have a hard time seeing some cast members of “Trump: The Sequel” passing an F.B.I. background check, let alone winning Senate approval or getting high-level security clearances. And while a right-wing provocateur like Laura Loomer wouldn’t find herself as an assistant secretary of the interior, she and the rest of the Unconfirmables would quite possibly find themselves in the Oval Office when they sought Trump’s ear, and he sought their adulation.

Trump’s staffing process would be messy, ugly and scary in part because he would hardly have his pick of shining political stars: His quickness to torment, fire and then publicly vilify the people who worked for him between 2017 and 2021 — when he burned through chiefs of staff and reportedly shrugged at a gathering mob’s pledge to execute his vice president — would leave him an unusually limited group of applicants.

“There are two categories, right?” former Gov. Chris Christie, the New Jersey Republican who led Trump’s 2016 transition for a while, said to me. “The first category is people who just want to have a title no matter what and aren’t really up to the job. And I think that’ll be a large part of who he gets.” The second category, Christie said, are “people who believe: Well, if I get in there, I can help to make it a little better.” That contingent, he added, would be much smaller than in 2017.

On top of which, Trump’s campaign has been a steady amassing of debts: to the oil and gas industry, which he effectively encouraged to buy the election for him; to Musk, who turned X into a digital Trump pep rally and is essentially cartwheeling across Pennsylvania with fistfuls of money for anyone with any inkling to vote for the madman of Mar-a-Lago; to Robert F. Kennedy Jr., who took a break from playing with animal carcasses — I mean, terminated his own presidential campaign — to endorse and stump for Trump. Trump has already said that he’ll repay Musk by putting him in charge of some new government efficiency commission, and he gave Kennedy a place on his transition team, presumably the bullpen from which Kennedy would emerge into a prime administration slot. A public health conspiracy theorist would be reborn as a steward of public health.

The plutocrats and opportunists are circling: A recent article by Rachael Bade and Jasper Goodman in Politico detailed concernsamong some Republicans that Howard Lutnick, the chief executive of the Cantor Fitzgerald investment firm who’s a co-chair of Trump’s transition operation, might be serving his business interests with his transition work.

I doubt Trump minds. It’s the kind of commingling he personified as president. Besides, he’s less interested than ever in rules, more intent than before on rebellion. He’s not going to worry about the sketchy semiotics of communicating with, or getting counsel from, the likes of Steve Bannon, Paul Manafort and Peter Navarro, all of whom have done time in the clink. Each will wear his incarceration as a badge of honor. Trump will accept it as such.

To Bannon, Manafort and Navarro, add Roger Stone, who was convicted of seven felonies but had his sentence commuted by Trump just days before he was supposed to report to a federal prison for a 40-month term. Add Corey Lewandowski, who has faced battery charges, which were dropped in one instance and resolved through a deal with prosecutors in another. Trump’s own felony convictions in Manhattan in May didn’t differentiate him from his posse. He just blends in all the better now.

“If Trump is elected,” said the Democratic strategist Doug Sosnik, who worked in the White House under Bill Clinton, “you’re going to see personnel much more, um, exotic than before.”

Sosnik was referring not only to the criminals around Trump but also to the zealots and cranks whose feeding of Trump’s ego during his campaign has surely been an audition for a similar fattening of it during another Trump presidency. I bring you Stephen Miller, a senior adviser during the Trump administration whose own obsessions — detention camps, mass deportations — have become Trump’s. It’s probably no coincidence that the day before Trump claimed during his debate with Vice President Kamala Harris that Haitian migrants in Springfield, Ohio, were eating people’s pets, Miller wrote a post on X with that precise allegation. That’s how hallucinations bloom in Trump’s brain. That’s the caliber of company Trump keeps.

How about Loomer? Her social media posts also chart her racism: Two days before the Trump-Harris debate, she warned that a victory in the election by Harris, whose mother was Indian American, would mean that the White House would “smell like curry.” The vileness of that comment didn’t prevent Trump from letting Loomer tag along with him to the debate. Nor did her past trafficking in Sept. 11 conspiracy theories discourage him, a day later, from bringing her to a memorial service for victims of those 2001 terrorist attacks. So there’s no reason to believe it would bar her from his White House — which, I suppose, would smell like McDonald’s.

“It feels like all bets are off if he wins,” Will Howell, a professor of political science and the director of the Center for Effective Government at the University of Chicago, told me. “The way to think about this is not that there are a handful of Steve Bannons who will be elevated and will do all kinds of damage. We’re at a point where the center of gravity of the party itself has shifted dramatically, and it now sits squarely underneath Trump’s feet. He and his impulses and his convictions are where the party stands. And that was not true in 2016, when he had to manage coalitions and bring in people who were not strict loyalists.”

Knowledgeable Republicans with whom I spoke said that even so, they can’t imagine Trump trying to put someone like Bannon or Stone in his cabinet per se or in any position that typically demands Senate confirmation. His own vanity would dissuade him from taking that gargantuan a risk of being denied and demeaned. But they can imagine Trump taking a chance on, say, Ric Grenell, a gratuitously combative foreign policy maven who in 2020 led a sham effort to discredit and overturn Joe Biden’s victory in Nevada. Grenell is now being touted as a possible secretary of state or national security adviser.

Trump could similarly promote Kash Patel, a populist pugilist who, in an appearance on Bannon’s podcast last year, served notice that he and other Trump allies were prepared to “go out and find the conspirators not just in government, but in the media,” including journalists “who helped Joe Biden rig presidential elections.” Trump, during his presidency, reportedly thought about deputizing Patel to conduct purges of inadequately obsequious staffers, but cooler heads in the administration quashed that idea. There’d be no such sentries and no such resistance in the future; Trump’s sons Don Jr. and Eric have pledged a thorough vetting of would-be aides that identifies and repels possible dissidents. Not so coincidentally, Patel “has been mentioned alongside many others as a potential C.I.A. director, attorney general or, if he fails Senate confirmation, a top job on the National Security Council,” Elizabeth Williamson wrote in The Times last week.

Patel might indeed fail Senate confirmation, as might Grenell, Kennedy (if nominated to a post of that nature) and other Trump darlings if Republicans remain in the Senate minority or regain the majority by only one or two seats. Republicans wouldn’t be able to survive defections, and a few of the senators in their caucus — most notably, Susan Collins of Maine and Lisa Murkowski of Alaska — aren’t reliable rubber stamps for Trump.

“I think it will be hugely problematic for him to try to find a team that can be confirmed,” former Senator Heidi Heitkamp, a North Dakota Democrat, told me.

But, she added, that doesn’t necessarily augur epic confirmation battles that raise the temperature on Capitol Hill even higher: “My question is: Does he simply bypass the Senate confirmation altogether and just put people in positions and dare people to challenge them?”

She and other Washington insiders explained that Trump could do that, at least temporarily, by presenting his appointees as provisional choices and affixing the word “acting” to their titles, as he did when he made Grenell the acting director of national intelligence in February 2020. They’d be time-limited but would in some cases have many months, not weeks, to wreak havoc. “I like ‘acting’,” Trump said in 2019, when his revolving-door administration left him with a bevy of vacancies to fill. “It gives me more flexibility. Do you understand that? I like ‘acting.’ So we have a few that are ‘acting.’” Expect many if he gets another go at this gig.

Expect more unilateral decisions and highhanded commands like the orders he once issued to John F. Kelly, his White House chief of staff at the time, to grant Kushner a top-secret security clearance. Such executive action has become increasingly common among presidents, and the Supreme Court, with its ruling on presidential immunity, has given Trump every reason to believe that he can ask forgiveness, not permission, and it will be readily granted.

So has Trump’s own political history: After two impeachments, several damning judgments in civil suits, federal indictments and a guilty verdict on all 34 counts in a Manhattan criminal case, he seems to have a 50-50 shot at an inauguration in January. Why wouldn’t he junk any nettlesome procedures? What’s to stop him from putting a neutered figurehead in a job that senators monitor and giving more power to far-right flatterers in the shadows?

What’s to stop those flatterers from plundering and degrading the richest and most powerful country on earth? Certainly not Trump. He’d be too busy admiring their initiative and accepting their compliments.

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/10/24/opinion/trump-elon-musk-robert-kennedy.html